


Coming Clean

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Story of Three Boys [43]
Category: Glee
Genre: Brothership, Gen, M/M, Slash, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-30
Updated: 2012-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-30 08:53:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 29,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long-held secrets see the light, new problems make themselves known, "Zoo" is not always a good hiding place, and PFLAG takes on the school board.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teaser

**Author's Note:**

> Our continued love an appreciation to David_of_OZ for his editing. :)

“It’s fine, Mom!” Tina insists, taking the bowl from her mother. “Really. Pop and popcorn. It’s just Brittany and Taylor, we don’t need a four course meal!” Tina shakes her head and deposits the food in her room before heading downstairs to let Taylor and Brittany inside. “Hi!”

“Hey,” Taylor nods, stepping to the side. 

“I made us a binder!” Brittany announces. “For our notes.”

“Oh, great! Come on upstairs,” Tina adds, leading the way towards the staircase. “I printed out some statistics and things from a few websites, too.”

“We can put those in the binder, definitely,” Brittany says, following Tina. 

“Uh, I didn’t really prepare anything,” Taylor admits, scuffing his toe along the carpet as they enter Tina’s room. “Just, you know. Some thoughts in my head.”

Tina laughs. “You’re such a guy, Taylor. That’s fine.”

Taylor almost freezes for a second, which is a little weird, and he laughs, too. Brittany pats Taylor on the head.

“It’s okay,” she says. “We like boys just fine, too.”

“Thanks?” Taylor says a little uncertainly, sitting down in the floor and grabbing a handful of popcorn when Tina offers him the bowl. “I mean, I looked at some websites and stuff, but I didn’t think about printing anything out.”

“Well, I wanted to have some sample language, in case we get that far at the first meeting, but honestly, I don’t think we will.”

“We should include language to protect bisexuals from having to sleep in the hall,” Brittany suggests.

Taylor looks confused, but then shrugs, like he’s chalking up the oddity of that sentence to Brittany and nothing else. “Did you make sure there’s language for trans and intersex, too?” he asks. 

“For having sex inside?” Brittany asks. “Do we need language for that? Mostly me and Santana don’t talk during.”

Taylor turns an interesting shade of green, and Tina has to stifle a giggle. “Not inside, inter. When someone has biological characteristics of male and female bodies, both.”

Brittany shrugs. “Well, they can probably still have sex inside, though.”

“Or outside,” Taylor agrees after a moment.

“Lots of options,” Brittany says. 

Tina pulls out her stack of printouts and thumbs through them. “I think the information from GLSEN includes some new language on trans students, but I don’t remember about intersex.”

“Yeah? Cool.” Taylor takes the offered sheets from Tina’s hand and obviously skims it. “Oh, nice, mention of dress codes… locker rooms!”

“I thought that was nice,” Tina nods. “I never really thought about it before, but.”

“I never really think about locker rooms,” Brittany adds. 

“The training is what I’m sure most districts object to, since training costs more money,” Tina notes philosophically. “But it’s a good start.”

“Having even half of these policies in place would be amazing,” Taylor says quietly. 

Brittany scribbles something on one of the sheets of paper inside the binder. Tina looks over and shrugs. “I don’t know how many of them we’ll be able to get in, so we’ll probably have to prioritize a bit.”

“Right.” Taylor chews on his lip for a second. “I could let you know which ones are the most important.” 

“You’re very smart for a freshman!” Brittany says.

Taylor laughs nervously. “Thanks? I, uh.” He takes a drink of pop. “I just have personal experience.”

Tina blinks. “You do?”

“You seriously, no one’s even guessed?” Taylor grins suddenly. “ _I’m_ trans.”

“Oh!” Tina feels incredibly dumb suddenly, but then she figures that she’s not supposed to have guessed. She thinks. “I— I guess I thought maybe you were gay or something.”

Taylor laughs. “No, I like girls. I’m just not one myself.”

“Well, of course you’re not a girl,” Brittany says. “That’s silly.”

“Yeah, well, my chromosomes got screwed up,” Taylor says wryly. “I’ve been on blockers for years so that helps. I’m finally starting T this summer.”

“You _are_ smart for a freshman! I’m still hung up on S.”

“I think Taylor means ‘testosterone’,” Tina says gently. “But Brittany’s right. Of course you’re not a girl.”

“Thanks.” The corners of Taylor’s mouth turn upwards. “My parents are pretty cool about it. I mean, they aren’t… they don’t _get_ it, but they aren’t awful about it, so. That’s made it a lot easier. Moving here helped, too; no one in Lima ever met Taylor–the–girl.”

“There’s a girl Taylor, too?” Brittany asks. “Is she a freshman?”

“Uh. No.” Taylor looks more confused than Brittany, and Tina winces.

“I’ll explain later, Britt,” she says. Tina puts her hand on Brittany’s shoulder for a moment, then pulls back. “Okay?”

“Okay, sure!” Brittany nods. 

“We should work on some suggested slogans for signs, too,” Tina says, glancing at Taylor quickly to make sure Taylor doesn’t have anything else to say. “Though I suspect we’ll need the signs more at subsequent meetings.”


	2. Teamwork

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby corn is not a protein, posters may or may not get made, and apparently Dave is Ming-Ming Duckling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist for Teamwork](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xxlWvE2U0nw)
> 
> (*giggle*)

“I’m telling you, Sheepdog,” Miles says, as they’re leaving Tina’s meeting and heading towards the cafeteria. “You haven’t lived until you’ve seen one of my posters. That’s like Picasso–quality stuff right there.”

“I’m pretty sure the posters aren’t supposed to be _great works of art_ , Brown,” David responds. 

“Isn’t Picasso the one who puts the faces on the wrong side of the head?” Rick asks. 

“Yeah, and I’m telling you, I can make a poster that’ll put someone’s face on the other side of his head about the _issues_ , Foots.” Miles looks downright indignant, hands on hips as they walk down the hallway.

“Do we really want to induce deformity?” David asks.

“They’re already deformed,” Miles says. “I’m just pointing it out to ’em.”

David rolls his eyes and makes a face just behind Miles’ back. Casey giggles at David’s face, then again when Rick pokes Miles in the ribs and Miles swats at him. They enter the cafeteria and Rick heads to their usual table with his sack lunch, leaving Casey, David, and Miles to navigate the lunch line. 

Casey leans over to Miles and whispers, “What is _that_? I don’t think it’s food.”

“It’s processed meal! Made from things that were _originally_ food!”

“I think it was made from things that were originally wood and plastic,” Casey says, quietly, then louder, “David, we don’t think this is really food.”

“We?” David raises an eyebrow. “Enlisting Brown now?”

Casey shrugs. “He doesn’t have to be enlisted. He _doesn’t_ think it’s food, do you, Miles?” He looks at Miles and widens his eyes, raising his eyebrows, encouraging Miles to just agree with him so Casey and David can skip the ‘you don’t eat enough’ fight today. 

Miles chuckles. “I don’t know if it’s food or not, but I am gonna eat it, ’cause it’s what’s here.”

Casey glares at Miles, who just grins in response. “It looks toxic,” Casey says. “Anyway, I don’t _want_ it.”

“Luckily there’s the salad bar,” David says flatly. 

“Fine. I’ll make a salad,” Casey says. “I will put plants on a plate and we’ll call it lunch.”

“Vegans do that every single day,” David points out mildly. “Of course, they generally put tofu or that other stuff on theirs.”

“Marzipan?” Casey suggests. “No, that doesn’t sound right.”

“That’s on cakes, Cherry!” Miles laughs. “You mean that tempeh stuff, Sheepdog?”

“Yeah, sure,” David shrugs. “One of those fake meats.”

“Fake meat is so _weird_. If you don’t like meat, why do you want fake meat that kinda looks and tastes like meat?” Casey says, halfheartedly scooping salad onto a plate. He stops after a second scoop, then David raises one eyebrow, motioning for Casey to put another scoop on his plate. 

“Protein,” David answers. “Which is something you also need.”

“I think baby corn is a protein,” Casey says, putting a _half_ an additional scoop of salad on his plate. “It looks proteiny. And look, see? Tomatoes.”

“Those? Are a grain and a fruit. Not protein.” David reaches for a spoon and puts some slices of hard-boiled egg on Casey’s plate. “Those? Protein.”

“Fine,” Casey sighs. “Eggs are protein. Eggs are on my plate. Yay, eggs!”

“You have to _eat_ the eggs before I cheer.”

“I’ll eat the eggs,” Casey says. “Really! Can we sit?”

“I don’t know, _can_ you?” Miles laughs. “Did you lose the ability to sit during Tina’s meeting?” Despite his words, Miles leads the way towards where Rick is sitting. 

“Yes,” Casey says. “I did. It’s very sad. My butt fell right off.”

“We’ll put it on ice and get them to sew it back on in the nurse’s office!” Miles suggests.

“Why’re we talking about Casey’s butt?” Rick asks. “I’m _eating_.”

“Miles started it,” Casey says. 

“Tina’s meeting made his butt fall off.” Miles shrugs.

“Maybe it’s around here somewhere, though,” Casey adds. “David, have you seen my butt?”

“Nope,” David says, grinning. “It needs you to eat those eggs to reappear.”

“Seriously, guys,” Rick protests. “ _Eating._ Food is going into my mouth.”

“My butt is _super_ -bossy!”

“Congratulations on your ability to eat!” Miles says loudly to Rick. “Way to go!”

Rick rolls his eyes and pointedly returns to his sandwich, while the rest of them take their seats. 

“Tina seems really into planning everything,” David observes. “She has it all super-organized.”

“She’s really smart,” Casey says. “I think everything’s gonna go pretty well. Maybe.”

“Maybe? Why maybe?” Miles asks. 

“Because, um.” Casey shrugs. “It’s still _Lima_.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got the element of _surprise_!”

“Element of… Miles. Surprise gay?” Casey shakes his head. “I don’t know that that’s exactly, you know, helpful.”

“No, maybe they’ll vote for it because they don’t have time to realize they wouldn’t otherwise,” Miles snorts. 

“I kinda thought, maybe…” Casey trails off.

“Maybe?” Miles cocks an eyebrow.

“I dunno. Maybe I could talk or something. At the meeting.”

“You heard Tina,” David says between bites. “She had too many people volunteer.”

“I thought maybe, I dunno, it might be helpful?” Casey frowns. “Maybe not, though. I just want to help.”

“Yeah, like Sheepdog said, too many people wanting to help, Cherry. I bet there’s a bunch of people thinking they should talk, too.”

“You’re right. No, there’s lots of people, they probably don’t need me or anything like that,” Casey says. “Lots of people get bullied here. They all probably have a lot of stuff to share.”

“It’s not just people who are bullied that Tina wants, though, I don’t think,” David says, frowning. “I mean, she has Coach Beiste and Kurt’s dad both talking. They aren’t getting bullied.”

“I just want to _do_ something, is all,” Casey says. “Everybody’s helped me a lot and I want to help, too. And not just posters, Miles,” Casey adds, as Miles looks like he’s about to interrupt. 

Miles scowls. “Posters are a visible thing, Cherry.”

“Well, I’m _bad_ at posters.”

“So is Brown. That doesn’t stop him,” Rick says.

“Yeah, you don’t draw at all, Case.” David shakes his head. 

“I’m bad with _colors_ ,” Casey insists. “That’s why I don’t _color_ them. Posters need all sorts of colors on them.”

“So you can do line art, Cherry,” Miles grins. 

“I just _sketch_. It’s not a _thing_!” Casey glares at David. “Why’d you tell them that?”

“You don’t really hide them,” is David’s only response.

“I didn’t think I _had_ to.”

“You better eat them protein–laden eggs,” Miles says suddenly. “Right?”

“So whatcha think Hudson’s gonna say?” Rick says, loudly. “At the meeting. Think he’s gonna say anything interesting, Brown?”

“Maybe he’ll tell a story about a dumbass on his football team that isn’t such a dumbass anymore,” Miles laughs. “You know anyone like that?”

“Can’t be you,” Rick snorts. “You’re still a dumbass. You talking about Karofsky?”

“Nah, he’s still a dumbass, too,” Miles grins at David. “Right?”

“Miles!” Casey says, kicking Miles in the shin under the table. 

“What?” Miles looks injured. “You were never on the football team, Cherry.”

“I can kick you again, though,” Casey says. “I hear you don’t have to be big to be a kicker.”

“Hey now!” Rick protests. “I’m plenty big.”

“I bet I could ask Kurt,” Casey continues. “He could teach me how to kick. Then when David and Miles go away to college, I can be on the football team with you, Rick. Only you’ll have to sit on the bench. I’ll be doing all the kicking.”

Miles and David both laugh loudly at the expression on Rick’s face. “Aw, see now! That’s just _harsh_ , Casey,” Rick says. “Ouch.”

“I can kick Miles again right now and show you!” Casey offers. “I’d be a great kicker.”

“Not necessary!” Miles says hurriedly, glaring at Rick. “Rick believes you.”

David laughs at Miles again, and Casey thinks he’d probably do anything to keep David happy and laughing like that, so he says, “And I’ll draw on your stupid posters, too, but _you_ have to do all the coloring.”

David does keep laughing. “Luckily, I passed kindergarten, so I promise to stay within the lines. Brown can tell me what color marker to use.”

“You three are like the freaking Wonderpets or something,” Rick says, shaking his head. “Too much damn teamwork.”

“This is sewwious,” David says, voice deadpan.


	3. 3x24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long-held secrets see the light, new problems make themselves known, "Zoo" is not always a good hiding place, and PFLAG takes on the school board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Playlist for 3x24 "Coming Clean"](http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL2F0DAE22E593DD0A)

The noise on the bus settles down a little once everybody’s got some dinner, and that’s when Finn really notices how Puck and Kurt haven’t actually been contributing to it all that much. Finn glances over the back of his seat, all sneaky–like, and Puck’s not looking so great. He’s resting his forehead against the window glass, just sort of staring out at the scenery passing by. 

Finn turns his head to try and catch Kurt’s eye. Kurt frowns slightly and lifts one shoulder, which either means he’s worried, too, or that he doesn’t know. Finn hasn’t totally mastered the whole silent conversation thing yet. Kurt’s hand is resting on Puck’s leg and Kurt just looks plain tense, like he might have to leap up at any moment. Considering the drama from earlier, though, it might not be the worst instinct.

The bus goes over a pothole and jostles all of them, and Puck lets out a quiet whine just seconds afterwards. He turns to look at Kurt for a second before leaning forward, and Kurt’s hand moves to Puck’s back. “Finn,” Kurt says quietly. “Garbage bag, water, distraction?”

“Yeah, got it!” Finn hurries to the front and whispers “Puck needs a trash bag” to Ms. P, who hands him a bag and looks back in Puck’s direction with worry on her face. Finn grabs two bottles of water out of the cooler and then tries to walk back to his seat nonchalantly. He gives Kurt the bag, and turns to face towards the front, prepared to create whatever kind of distraction might be necessary. He might try falling down dramatically in the aisle. 

Kurt’s hand is still on Puck’s back, and he hands the bag to Puck with his other hand. Puck half–nods but doesn’t look up, and a minute or two passes with no one noticing anything, conversation in the front of the bus continuing, before Finn can hear quiet puking noises. Once they’ve stopped, Finn reaches around the side of his seat, offering a water bottle back to Kurt without looking at him. He can hear Kurt open the bottle and then the rustle of the bag along with some quiet muttering. Puck grunts in response, and then Finn can hear Kurt, a little louder. “…another one?”

There’s another grunt, this one sounding more affirmative, and Finn can hear Puck’s backpack being unzipped. 

“Finn,” Kurt whispers. “Can you ask Ms. Pillsbury if we can stop at the next exit?”

“Yeah, dude, of course. No problem. Here.” Finn hands Kurt the other water bottle and walks back up to the front. 

“Hey, Ms. P?” Finn says quietly. “We need to stop at the next service plaza, ok?”

“Oh, sure, Finn. We can do that,” Ms. Pillsbury says, glancing towards the back of the bus again. “Is Noah doing alright back there? He was looking a little pale when we got on the bus.”

“Uh. He could use a stop.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Schue asks from the other side of Ms. Pillsbury. “What should we do?”

“I think Kurt’s on it. We just need a break without it being a scene,” Finn says. “I gave him some water.”

“Of course, of course,” Schue nods. “Right. Well, it’s a little ways still to the next plaza,” he adds apologetically. 

“You got any gum or a mint or something? He might like that.”

“Um, yeah. I’ve got some Altoids.” Schue reaches into his pocket and pulls out a couple, handing them to Finn. 

“Thanks, Mr. Schue,” Finn says, giving him the best smile he can muster. “I better go back there, just in case.” Finn walks back down the aisle, looking out the window as he passes by Rachel’s seat, which makes her turn and look out the window, too, and then Quinn and Mercedes and Sam all look, like maybe Finn saw something out there. Finn slips back into his seat. “Hey Kurt. Here. Gimme your hand.”

There’s an amused snort before Kurt’s hand appears, and Finn presses the Altoids into Kurt’s palm. Kurt’s hand withdraws and there’s more movement and low voices behind Finn. “What did she say?” Kurt asks after a few moments. “I think you can turn around.”

“She said, well, she just asked how Puck was. Mr. Schue says it’s still a ways until the next plaza, but we’ll stop, and can they do anything?” Finn says, turning around. Puck’s all curled up in a pitiful–looking ball against Kurt. “You doing ok, bro?” Finn asks, softly.

Puck sort of nods—more like moving his head, really, than an actual nod—and Kurt meets Finn’s gaze with a tiny nod of his own. “Worst is probably past,” Kurt says very quietly. 

“I don’t think anybody else noticed, really,” Finn says. The rest of the glee kids still seem pretty wrapped up in whatever, Santana and Britt snuggling in a seat, Rachel talking with Quinn, Mercedes, and Sam, probably about whatever it was they were supposed to have seen out the window. 

“Well, now you’ve jinxed it,” Kurt says, making a face. 

“Nah. I’m prepared to create an awesome distraction if I need to!”

“Thanks,” Puck croaks after a second passes.

“Dude, come on. Brothers, right?”

“Yeah.” Puck still doesn’t look up, just stays curled against Kurt, taking deep breaths. 

It’s another twenty minutes before the bus finally rolls into the service plaza, and Kurt pokes Finn with something that feels kinda like paper. “Ouch. What’s—”

“Tell them to go buy Cinnabons or something,” Kurt hisses. “Pretend it was your idea.”

“You’re like one of those black ops guys. You’re… you’re _Michael Weston_ , dude,” Finn says, taking the twenty Kurt’s shoving at him. When the bus parks, he stands up announces, “Hey, who wants Cinnabons?” while waving the twenty in the air. 

“Oooh, me!” Rachel beams. “Are you treating all of us, Finn?”

“Yes,” Finn announces. “Because I am your leader and I am proud of your accomplishments, so I think, uh, Cinnabons are the appropriate… you know. Whatever.”

“Awesome, dude!” Mike proclaims. “But that’s totally not going to buy twelve of them.”

“I have more!” Finn says, cutting his eyes back at Kurt. “In my wallet! Let’s go to the Cinnabon place and find out how much more I need!”

Kurt has a very small smirk on his face before he turns back to Puck, and as they all spill off the bus, Finn shakes his head and rolls his eyes at himself for getting suckered into being everybody’s Cinnabon bitch.

 

Kurt nods a little at Ms. Pillsbury as they walk to the front of the bus, thankful Mr. Schue is already off the bus. “Feeling any better?” Kurt murmurs to Puck, and Puck shrugs. They make it down the stairs and along the sidewalk before Puck does just as he predicted, heaving into the nearest trashcan. 

“Did Puck get bus–sick?”

Kurt has to shake his head a little in amusement; leave it to Brittany to create a new term. He doesn’t look up, though, just opens the second bottle of water and hands it to Puck when he straightens. 

“Thanks, K.”

Brittany hovers nearby, looking like some kind of worried tropical bird. “Do you want me to get your Cinnabons for you and keep them safe?”

“No, Britt,” Kurt says gently. “I think Finn will take care of it.”

“Okay. I’m going to find Santana now. I think she got lost on her way to the bathrooms. Or maybe I did.”

Kurt bites back a giggle. “Okay. Enjoy your Cinnabon.” He turns back to Puck as Brittany walks off. “Do you want to wait until after you eat?”

Puck shakes his head. “Nah. Should probably go ahead and take it. We’ve got, what, two hours left?”

“Probably.” Kurt fishes the bottle out of his pocket and hands it to Puck. “Too bad they don’t have chocolate Cinnabons.”

“ _There_ is a good idea,” Puck grins slightly. He swallows the pill and drowns it with half the bottle of water. 

“I thought you’d like that one,” Kurt laughs. “Walk around or back on the bus?”

“Walk around,” Puck says after a minute, and Kurt steers them in the opposite direction of where the other ten disappeared for Cinnabons. 

They walk in silence, Kurt occasionally bumping his shoulder against Puck’s, until Kurt notices that most of the others are either back in the bus or heading towards it. “Ready?”

“Or not,” Puck agrees, and they walk back to the bus, where Finn’s holding an armful of Cinnabons and other items. 

“Hey, you guys! I got your Cinnabons. And some other stuff.”

“I can see that,” Kurt comments. “What is all of that?”

“Well, I got some more water, but then I thought, maybe you guys might like a pop, so I got that. I got some gum, too, because it lasts longer than Altoids,” Finn explains, moving his arms a little to show off the various items. “Oh, and napkins. Lots of napkins.”

“Next roadtrip, we should take him,” Puck laughs. “Thanks, dude.”

“No problem. I, uh,” Finn shrugs. “Just worried about you, is all.”

“You did an excellent job at distracting them.” Kurt smirks slightly. “I’m sure Dad will reimburse us.”

“It wasn’t that much out of pocket for me if he won’t. Not a big deal, dude, seriously. I just want everybody to be ok,” Finn says. “Even if it means I’m the Cinnabon bitch.”

“We’ll get you a T-shirt.”

“I’d wear it proudly.”

 

It’s even later than expected when they roll back into McKinley, thanks to an emergency bathroom stop for Tina, and Puck leans against the Nav, waiting for everyone to sort out their stuff. Most of the rest of the club are gone when Puck grabs Kurt around the waist and pulls him close, kissing him deeply. Kurt startles and then his lips part, his tongue darting out to meet Puck’s. Puck slides his hands up and down Kurt’s back, feeling Kurt’s fingers dragging across his scalp. He pulls back after a long moment and rests his forehead on Kurt’s. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“We can leave now.” Puck grins. 

Kurt smirks a little and shakes his head. “Glad to have your permission, sir.” Kurt turns towards Finn. “Ready?”

“Definitely ready,” Finn says. “Let’s get out of here.”

They climb into the Nav, all of them a little worse for the wear, Puck thinks, and Kurt steers them out of the parking lot like he’s on autopilot. “So, benevolent dictator,” Kurt says as they cross the river, “what’s next?”

Finn makes a little noise to indicate he’s thinking it over. “We go home. We have a snack. You put Puck to bed and do, you know, whatever. We make other decisions in the morning.”

“Can I have a blankie and some milk?” Puck can’t help but ask. “When I get put to bed, I mean.”

“However it works between you two is _totally_ your own business, dude,” Finn says. “Though I’m sure Kurt’ll hook you up with the milk if you want it.”

“It’s usually Kurt that needs the extra blanket,” Puck grins. 

“He can’t help it. He has no body fat.”

“Am I the one that we’re talking about as if I’m not here, today?” Kurt laughs. 

“Damn, Carole must not be tired anymore or something,” Puck says as they pull up in front of the Hudmel house, lights still on and everything. 

“You wouldn’t think they’d want to celebrate at 10 or whatever, no,” Kurt agrees.

“Was everything ok today? Did you check in with them?” Finn asks. “Maybe they’re worried about _us_.”

“They know we won, they know we weren’t getting in until late, and so forth.”

“They know we aren’t bringing home the trophy, right? ’Cause I think even Mr. Schue’s gonna have to pry it out of Rach’s fingers.”

Puck laughs. “Dude, I think everyone who’s ever _met_ her knows that Rach is sleeping draped over that trophy tonight.”

“Well, first love and all that,” Finn says, ruefully, with a slight shrug. 

“True.” Puck returns the shrug as they head inside. 

“We’re back!” Kurt yells as he pulls off his coat. 

“We’re in the kitchen!” Burt yells back.

The three of them head towards the kitchen, and Puck notices that it smells like chocolate and also beef or something. “Hi, Dad, Carole,” Kurt says, somewhat subdued. “It smells good in here.”

“There’s some beef vegetable soup on the stove,” Carole beams at the three of them. “And brownies in the oven!”

“I love brownies in the oven!” Finn says. “You’re the best mom ever, mom.”

“Aww, thank you, sweetie!”

“Yeah, thanks, Carole,” Puck nods, taking a bowl from her. “This is awesome. Dinner was hours ago.” Not to mention most of his was chucked back up in a garbage bag, but well. Nothing to be done about that.

“You’re welcome, boys!”

“So, everything went well, then?” Burt asks.

“The competition wasn’t really that, well, competitive,” Kurt offers, dishing up soup. “The Liberteens overemphasized their dancing, so the vocals were lacking, and Aural Intensity was too thematic.”

“Sailor suits,” Finn says. “Awful.”

“Sailor suits?” Carole repeats. “What do you mean? Like little one-piece outfits?”

“Like the suits that sailors wear.”

“That sounds really strange,” Carole declares, and Puck sits down with his soup, nodding his agreement. They were strange. 

“So, yes, the competition went well,” Kurt summarizes with a little shrug, taking a bite of soup. 

“Good, good. Nice trophy?”

“We’ll all see it again someday… when we pry it from Rachel’s cold, dead hands,” Puck informs Burt, barely managing to keep a straight face. 

“She has strong feelings about winning,” Finn says. 

“Understatement of the century, brother dear.”

“Are you excited about Nationals?” Carole asks, still beaming at the three of them. “So wonderful!”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be awesome!”

“I’m wondering what the drama will be that time,” Puck snorts. “It just wouldn’t be a competition without some, right?”

“Maybe someone will get an unfortunate haircut.” Kurt smirks. “Oh, wait, that’s already happened. Alas.”

“Oh, maybe somebody will be all, ‘oh, hey, break a leg’, and then someone else will _actually_ break a leg!” Finn looks almost excited about the idea. “Maybe it’ll piss off Santana and she’ll go all crazy in Spanish. Hmm. No, that already happened, too.”

“I think it’s Sam’s turn,” Puck says. “He needs some competition drama.”

“Maybe he’ll forget his lemons and his hair will turn brown overnight.” Kurt laughs. “Or maybe not.”

“Maybe he’ll forget his lip balm stuff and he won’t be able to sing,” Finn says. 

“You boys,” Carole says fondly, shaking her head. “I’m sure New York will be drama–free. Is Mr. Schuester making the travel arrangements this week?”

“Uh, they’re actually already made,” Puck admits. “Found a great deal on a hotel in Times Square plus flights, so we booked it as soon as we had enough for the deposit. Would have sucked if we hadn’t made it to Nationals, I guess.”

“Schuester had you guys make the travel arrangements?” Burt says, shaking his head. “What exactly _does_ that man do?”

“No, we made them without telling him.” Puck grins. “We didn’t want to end up shoved into two rooms again. Didn’t really work how he split everyone up, anyway.”

“Oh?” Burt frowns. “What, boys and girls?”

“ _Likes_ boys and _likes_ girls,” Kurt corrects him. “Eight in one room, five in the other.”

“What? That’s unacceptable! Kurt, why didn’t you tell me this last year?”

Kurt shrugs. “I wasn’t in the room that long anyway. Santana snores, by the way.”

“I’m the leader. I delegated all the decision-making to the smart guys,” Finn says. 

“Two to a room, this time,” Puck says. “Thankfully.”

“That’s certainly more appropriate,” Burt nods. “Well, now that that’s all settled, we, uh… well, your mom and I have something to tell you boys.”

The three of them exchange a look, and Puck bites down on his tongue to keep from grinning. Finn looks like he’s about to explode; Kurt’s the only one managing to keep any sort of neutral expression on his face. “Oh?” Kurt asks, very calmly. 

“Well, you see.” Carole stops and beams at them again. “You’re— well, you’re going to have—”

“A baby!” Burt interrupts. “Carole’s having a baby!”

“Wow!” Kurt actually sounds moderately convincing. “What a surprise!”

“Wow!” Finn echoes. “What, uh. A… surprise?”

Carole looks at Finn suspiciously. “Finn, honey?”

“What?” Finn asks, but it’s not a particularly effective protest, considering he’s got his guilty look.

“Did you… know already?” Carole looks puzzled, like she can’t imagine how he possibly could have known. 

“Uh. No?”

“Well, I think it’s great,” Puck says, but he can tell he sounds as convincing as Finn. “Hannah said you should have a kid last summer.”

“Alright, there’s clearly something you boys aren’t letting on about,” Burt says. “Did you three know about this?”

“You, um.” Kurt blushes. “You forgot that it’s my job to collect the trash from _all_ the bathrooms.”

“He _saw_ your _pee stick_ , mom,” Finn says. 

“Oh.” Carole sort of deflates. “Oh, goodness. I didn’t even think about that! You boys have known since then?” Kurt just nods, not saying anything else. “Wait. Is _that_ why my Diet Coke keeps disappearing?”

“Uh. No?”

“Boys.” Carole shakes her head again. “Really?”

“It seemed prudent,” Kurt says weakly. 

“There was also, uh… other stuff,” Finn says. “You know, we were distracted by other stuff and it didn’t seem like a good time to ask you about it.”

“Well. At any rate, you’re going to have a little brother or sister sometime around the twenty-second of September.” Carole’s smile is bright again. “We wanted to wait until now, with the first trimester over and Regionals behind you.”

“Yay, Pretzel!” Finn says, with a little excited clap. 

“Pretzel? The soup wasn’t enough?”

“What? We’re not gonna _eat_ her… or him!”

“Pretzel. The baby.” Kurt shrugs. “It’s as good a nickname as any.”

Burt’s face contorts through a series of expressions before settling on baffled. “Pretzel? You named the baby _Pretzel_?”

“It’s not like ‘peanut’ or ‘jellybean’ is any better,” Kurt scoffs defensively. “What’s wrong with Pretzel?”

“I’ve seen those weird tiny fetus–baby pictures,” Finn says. “They’re kind of pretzel–shaped, even.”

“It’s true,” Puck shrugs. “Size is about right, too. Or was?” 

“It is unique, honey,” Carole says, looking at Burt. 

“Fine. Pretzel,” Burt sighs. “We’re not calling him that once he’s born, though.”

“Or _her_ ,” Finn says. “We hope it’s a girl–Pretzel.”

“With hair,” Puck adds.

“Hair like Kurt’s,” Finn clarifies. “I mean, of course, we hope the baby has hair, like, in general. But a girl–Pretzel should have Kurt’s hair.”

“Are you going to find out? Ahead of time, that is?” Kurt looks expectantly at Carole and Burt. 

“You can find out about the hair ahead of time? That is _so_ cool!”

“Not the hair, Finn!” Kurt shakes his head. 

“Hey, I don’t know these things, ok? Geez.”

“Pretty sure he meant if Pretzel’s a girl or a boy.”

“Well, I’m not so sure _I_ want to find out, but I think Carole’s all gung-ho about it,” Burt says. “Guess that means we are, huh?”

“I am the one carrying the little— Pretzel.” Carole laughs.

“Pretzel!” Finn practically squeals. “Yay!”

Carole keeps laughing. “Okay, the brownies are done. I’m going to head to bed; if there’s any left, cover them? Burt, honey, you coming upstairs now?”

“Yeah, bed sounds good to me,” Burt says. “We should leave the boys to their brownies and their, uh, Pretzel–talk.”

Carole and Burt head up the stairs at that, and Kurt grabs the pan of brownies, setting it in the middle of the table. “So. September.”

“Oh no! That means we’re gonna be away at college when Pretzel is born,” Finn says. 

“We knew that already, dude. Unless Carole’d been like, halfway done before she took the test.”

“I don’t know how those things work. I mean, maybe it takes a while.”

“Anyway, yes, Finn, we’ll be gone. We’ll just have to plan to fly back for at least a day or two.”

“It’ll be like a family reunion, only with bonus family,” Finn says.

“New family.”

“New family _is_ bonus family. You and Burt were bonus family at first, too, but now you’re just, you know. Burt and my brother.”

“I once was a bonus, but now I’ve been downgraded,” Kurt says, looking at Puck and sighing dramatically. 

“What are you talking about, dude?” Finn shakes his head. “That’s totally an upgrade. You were _upgraded_.”

“Family 2.0?” Puck offers. “Does that make Pretzel Family 2.1? 2.5? 3.0?”

“Pretzel’s a baby, not a GPA,” Finn says. “She’s either just our sister or he’s just our brother.”

Puck snorts back a laugh, shaking his head. “Right.” He sighs. “So, anyway.”

“Yeah, anyway.”

“I wasn’t kidding about the psychiatrist in Lima being shit.” Puck snorts. “By the way, it may in fact be your fault that I’m gay. According to her. And the arts cause anxiety.”

“Wait, what?” Finn blinks slowly at Puck, then his eyebrows furrow and he frowns. “She said _what_? Why’d she say that to you? Who is this person? This is awful!”

“It was,” Puck agreed. “I did a very dramatic storm–out, which I’m sure she added to a file about queers.” He snorts. “So, yeah, Toledo. Psychiatrist there, _not_ completely insane.”

“I’m really confused, dude. Is that why you guys went to Toledo? A psychiatrist?”

Puck nods. “Yeah. Turns out I’m not actually normal.”

“You had to go to Toledo for that? Oh, hey, this is that thing, isn’t it? From today, and from Sectionals, that thing,” Finn says. “The doctor.”

“Yeah. All the puking and shit? Also not normal.” Puck shrugs. “Never went around interviewing people about how their brains worked, you know?”

Finn nods. “It always seemed like it was normal for _you_ , anyway. To me, at least. Are you ok? Is there something that they can do about it?”

“I have meds. Daily stuff and then, like, rescue meds. Like that inhaler you had. Dr. V thought I should take one of them before the performance; I’m guessing Quinn was watching.”

“That is such shit, dude. Quinn, I mean, not the meds. It’s shit you need to take the meds, but… they’re helping? Right? You have seemed kinda less stressed out the last week or two, but I thought maybe it was because of New York.”

“New York didn’t hurt,” Puck acknowledges with a grin. “But yeah, they seem to be. Probably wouldn’t have gotten through all the stuff last month otherwise.” He shrugs. “I just get to be unusual, is all.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being unusual,” Finn says, fiercely. “Anybody else gives you any shit and I’ll, I dunno. Something. I’ll figure out something to do and I’ll do it.”

Puck laughs. “Thanks, dude. But as long as Quinn stops being bitchy, it shouldn’t be an issue.”

“But yes, that was also what was up at PFLAG last month,” Kurt interjects. “It’s not even that it has to be a huge secret.” Kurt pauses and flicks his gaze to Puck’s, and Puck nods. “But it’s not exactly helpful for everyone to crowd and badger someone who’s already anxious.”

Finn looks stricken and his guilty look creeps across his face. “I’m sorry I badgered you. I just thought Kurt had a terrible disease, is all. Seriously, Puck, if I’d had any idea.”

“He wasn’t talking about you, dude.” Puck rolls his eyes. “Just, why it’s not something I want on Jewfro’s blog or whatever.” Puck shudders a little. “Hell, to be honest with you, my mom doesn’t even know.”

“I’m not gonna say anything to anyone. You know that, right?”

“Yes, Finn, we know.” 

“Your mom and Burt know, though.”

“Ok. Ok, yeah,” Finn nods. “But you’re ok, right? Like, you’re gonna be ok? It’s not gonna be like in that movie where that guy has that breakdown, and thinks there’s this other guy, but really it’s just his own brain?” Finn makes a face. “No, wait, that was _Fight Club_. I think I mean that other one. Where the guy stops sleeping.”

“Um. No?” Puck guesses. “It’s just anxiety, dude. Not schizophrenia or something.”

“Well, I don’t know this stuff, man. I know you worry about things. Now I’m gonna worry about you worrying about things!”

“It’s a worry circle jerk.”

Finn makes his strangled noise and turns beet red. He finally chokes out, “Dude!”

“ _That’s_ what makes you turn red now?”

“Well. Yes. Apparently.”

Puck laughs. “Noted.”

“Sometimes I think I can imagine what you two were like ten years ago.”

“I was shorter. Puck had more hair.”

“ _You_ had more hair, too,” Puck points out. “Also, he still had this little bit of a lisp or something.”

“Did not!” Finn’s face is teetering on the brink of grumpy.

“You did, dude. Not all the time. Just like, sometimes, on some words.” Puck grins and looks at Kurt. “He also had this favorite T-shirt.”

“Shut up, dude. The White Ranger was _awesome_ , ok?” 

“I liked the Pink Ranger. Also, the first Red Ranger.”

“Yeah, he was cool, too,” Finn says. “But the White Ranger had a better story line. I mean, he was bad, but then he was good, and it was all, like, complicated.”

“No, I mean I _liked_ the Red Ranger,” Kurt corrects, grinning. “I’m not sure what that says about me, actually.”

“Ooh. I don’t think I had the same kind of feelings about the White Ranger,” Finn says. “I think I just thought his fighting style was cool.”

“I should hope not.” Kurt sniffs. “I’d have to worry about you if you had.” 

Puck laughs. “You two.”

“Shut up. We’re bonding,” Finn says. “Though, I didn’t like the Pink Ranger that much. Something about her face. It bothers me.”

“I liked the Black Ranger best, but I don’t think I _liked_ any of them.” Puck shakes his head. “This is a surreal conversation.”

“You were totally jealous of my shirt, dude,” Finn says. “You know it’s true. Oh, I think my mom might still have that thing, too! You could totally borrow it.”

“Maybe,” Puck concedes. “Mom has this weird thing about shirts. She never would buy me that Darth Maul shirt I wanted. But I don’t think I’d fit into the White Power Ranger shirt now.”

“Uh, I saw that shirt you wore back from New York. I think they’re about the same size.”

Kurt laughs. “One of them is probably 100% cotton; the other one has Lycra.”

“Yeah, one of them’s stretchier than the other, dude.”

Finn shrugs. “I don’t know about that stuff. I just know they looked like they’re about the same size. I’ll see if I can find the Power Rangers shirt tomorrow and we’ll put it on you, ok?”

“You could wear it to rehearsal,” Kurt suggests brightly.

“I have the distinct feeling I’ve stepped into a Hudmel beehive and disturbed it.”

Finn giggles wildly. “Kurt is the _queen_ bee.”

“And I have the crown to prove it.” Kurt sniffs, tilting his head up and looking down his nose at Puck and Finn. 

“It’s true. He does.” Puck shrugs. 

“I know, I’ve seen them.” Finn scrunches up his face, like he’s trying to remember something. “Oh, are you still gonna do that prom thing? I bet Puck would definitely be on board.”

Kurt just starts giggling. “What prom thing?” Puck asks suspiciously. 

“I think you’d win. You know PFLAG would all vote for you,” Finn says. 

“Uh-oh.” Puck looks between Finn and Kurt. “Kurt?”

“Well.” A stray laugh escapes and he presses his lips together. “After prom last year. Finn and I had a conversation about prom this year. Finn suggested I should just run for prom queen, but I made the point that I’d need someone to run for prom king with me.”

“And?” Puck raises his eyebrows and looks at Finn.

“Well, it’s not like I _knew_ at that point, dude,” Finn says. “It just worked out in a really coincidental kinda way, right?”

Puck guffaws. “Seriously?”

“I think Finn’s exact words were ‘Puck will do anything, especially if you challenge his badassness’.”

“Yup, that sounds about right,” Finn says, nodding.

“I dunno, Prom King doesn’t sound that badass,” Puck argues. “Prom Executioner or something, maybe.”

“What, you don’t wanna be Prom King?” Finn says. “The crowns are real nice, and then you guys could dance together and it would be all cute and stuff.”

“You could try for Prom Queen,” Kurt says impishly. “Maybe I should go for Prom King. Get a complete set rather than two of the same.”

“I’m just not sure the Queen’s crown would match my shoes,” Puck says blandly. 

“We should all go to prom together,” Finn says. “You can both be my dates, and then everyone’ll feel sorry for me, because you guys both got crowns and I didn’t get anything, and then I’ll get sympathy dances.”

“Yes, otherwise no one will dance with you,” Kurt deadpans. “You’ll be all alone.”

“Wait, don’t you get a scepter with the crown?”

“I’m not known for my skillful dance moves, dude,” Finn says. “Sympathy might be the only way to get dances.”

“I’m sure Mike will dance with you.”

“Mike never lets me lead and he’s too heavy to throw in the air, anyway.”

Kurt grins wickedly. “I have the perfect plan.”

“What’s your plan?” Finn asks.

“April!”

“Ohh, yeah. She’d definitely dance with you, dude.”

“Oh great, a lesbian pity date,” Finn sighs. “Who’s probably gonna get into it with Santana or something, and then they’ll be all, I dunno, and… actually, sure. That sounds like a good idea.”

“She _is_ willing to dance,” Kurt points out. “And we could tell her not to hit on Santana for the night.”

Finn looks thoughtful. “Well, at least there’s no after–prom pressure or anything. Ok, sure. Let’s see if April will be my prom date.”

Kurt bounces a little in his chair. “See? It’ll be clear lots of people are just going with a friend.”

“Well, not many people outside glee club are gonna know Finn isn’t exactly April’s type,” Puck laughs. “See, you’ll have the mysterious out of town date.”

“April _is_ mysterious,” Finn agrees. “Ok. Sure.”

“We’ll message her tomorrow.” Kurt smiles a bit like the cat that got the canary.

“I bet April’ll let me throw her in the air,” Finn says. “You should ask her about that. Oh, ask her if she’s gonna expect one of those flower things. You think she’ll want a wrist one or the kind that gets pinned on?”

“I’m not sure if she’s into kinky stuff,” Puck says, “so go with the wrist. But yeah, pretty sure she’ll let you throw her in the air.”

“Sweet!”

“Hmm.” Kurt appears to be lost in thought, clearly contemplating something or another.

“We should all, like, match.”

“Who all?” Puck asks suspiciously, because he suddenly has an image of Finn trying to convince the girls into tuxes or something. 

“The guys. We should all get the same kind of tuxes or whatever. Oh, we can wear sunglasses, too, like the Men in Black!”

“Are we driving to Chicago?”

“Hmm.” Kurt does his head tilting thing for a moment. “No on Chicago. Possibly on the matching and sunglasses.”

“No hats, though.”

“No, because they’d get in the way of our crowns, remember?” Puck laughs. 

“I guess I could wear a hat,” Finn says, “since I’m not getting a crown. Can I hold the scepter? I promise I won’t hit anybody with it.”

“No, just bring your ray-gun or whatever for the aliens. If we’re all Men in Black.” Kurt shrugs. “Of course, finding a style that works for all of us could be challenging.”

“Classic silver. That’s the only way to go with ray-guns, dude,” Finn says.

“The girls should go vintage.” Kurt sighs. “Of course, I’ll only get my hands on three or four of them.”

“Why vintage?” Puck asks. 

“They won’t have to worry about showing up in the same dress as anyone else, for starters. Also, they’re going to stand out more with a bunch of guys in the same or nearly the same tux. Why not play it up?”

Puck shrugs. “Okay.”

“Do girls really worry about that? Showing up in the same thing?” Finn asks. “I thought that just happened on television, like the bathroom thing. Oh, but that happens for real, too.”

“Life is stranger than fiction.”

 

Puck wakes up around 3 am, not sure why, held tightly in Kurt’s arms. Kurt’s face is relaxed in the little bit of light peering in the room, and Puck sighs. Kurt’s beautiful all the time, but there’s something else there when he’s relaxed and open, something Puck doesn’t see in Lima but occasionally, like now. In his sleep, Kurt sighs a little, his arms shifting around Puck, and Puck runs his finger down Kurt’s nose. 

“Mmm.” Kurt pushes into the touch. “Baby?”

Puck laughs softly. “Expecting someone else?”

Kurt’s head shakes and then his eyes open slowly. “Just you. Always you.”

“I missed you too.”

“We’re not going to have a good week. Again.”

“Yeah.” Puck brushes his lips over Kurt’s slowly before responding further. “Probably. At least we’ll sleep well at Nationals. Maybe we can convince your dad I need to stay here before finals in May.”

“A couple of nights a week isn’t horribly unreasonable to ask for. Right?”

“I certainly don’t think so,” Puck smirks. “But Burt might feel differently.”

Kurt sighs. “This is sadly true.” Kurt buries his face against Puck’s neck. “I’ll get Finn to drop me off before two, so at least we can go straight to your place.”

“Okay.” Puck wiggles a little and rests his hand on Kurt’s chest. “Back to sleep, blue eyes?”

“Yes.” Kurt sighs again, this time a content sound, and his body relaxes again. Puck grins a little and lets his eyes close. It’s too soon that he has to get up and go to work, but he’ll take it for now. 

 

Kurt struts into the Starbucks at closer to one than two, exchanging a smile with Puck over a customer’s head. He leans against the counter after the woman leaves with a little sigh. “Finn definitely seems to want me to write up something touristy for New York. Also, I think we need to take him shopping before New York.”

Puck grins. “Send them all on the Circle Line and we can do something else with those two hours of our life.”

“Tempting,” Kurt admits. “Very tempting.” He shrugs. “But we should take Finn shopping. I get to spend someone else’s money instead of ours.”

“Good point.” Puck laughs. “Dayton? Or down to Cincy?”

“Cincy, we’ll go to lunch at Ikea.”

“Mmm. Cinnamon buns.”

“Yes.” Kurt slides down the counter as a couple in their thirties enter, talking loudly about the excellent sermon that day. Puck barely manages not to roll his eyes; Kurt does visibly roll his eyes when the woman starts speaking loudly about ‘God’s perfect plan for families doesn’t include remarriage!’

“May I help you?” Puck interrupts, pasting what he’s pretty sure is a sickly smile on his face. 

“I’d like a grande chai latte, please,” the woman answers, tittering slightly. “Everything in moderation, you know!”

“I want a large black coffee.” The man sets down his American Express expectantly. “I don’t know what fancy words you use for that.” He chuckles, and Puck just swipes the card and returns it. 

“Thank you,” he says quietly, before turning to fix their drinks. 

“Don’t leave room for cream, either,” the man adds. “No, you’re absolutely right. This blended family nonsense, it’s what’s wrong with America. We’re spending too much time fighting gay marriage.”

“It’s the breakdown of the family unit,” the woman says. “That’s the problem.”

“Exactly. Exactly.” The man thumps his fist down on the counter. “You need a solid nuclear family. Kids that are related to each other biologically.”

The woman nods vigorously. “Two parents, that’s important. Step-parents just create so many problems!”

Puck looks over at Kurt, whose face is pinched. If his eyes had power, they’d be glaring a hole in both of the speakers. Puck shrugs slightly as he steams the milk for the latte. These people would pretty much hate everything about both of them.

“There’s a reason the fairy tales have a wicked stepmother,” the man agrees. 

“And the whole step-sibling issue. I mean, they just can’t have a _natural_ relationship. It’s going to be forced and usually borderline inappropriate, depending on their ages!” 

“There’s your drink,” Puck says tersely, sliding it across the counter to the woman. 

“Thank you, son,” the man booms. “See, there are well–raised children.”

“Actually—”

“Actually,” Kurt interrupts, shooting Puck a look. “You might want to leave, as we’re having a chapter meeting of Stepfamilies Anonymous shortly.”

The man blusters for a moment and blows across the top of his coffee before stalking outside with a frown. The woman just says, “Well, _goodness_!” before following after him.

“You can’t argue with the customers, baby,” Kurt says mildly. “Even if Ms. Horatio would agree with you.”

“Yeah, I know,” Puck admits. “Thanks.”

“What else are fabulous boyfriends for?” Kurt smirks. 

“Kisses?”

“That also.”

Puck grins. “You should put down Top of the Rock instead of the Empire State Building. See how high Finn gets before he realizes what it is.”

“We wouldn’t even be there, hopefully.”

“Still.”

Kurt giggles a little. “Well, I was thinking Natural History museum, Top of the Rock, and Circle Line. That should take most of a day and give us time to do other things.”

“Finn and the rest of them are going to think we’re staying in the hotel room, you know.”

“As long as they don’t try to follow us around or make us go with them.”

“Finn does have a history of staking out.” Puck shrugs. “And we are terribly exciting.”

“Oh, yes, terribly.”

John arrives for the afternoon shift and nods at Kurt before addressing Puck. “You have a good time in New York last week?”

“We did,” Puck answers with a grin. “Hard to come back, actually.”

“I bet!” John pulls his apron on and looks at the clock. “You want to head out? It’s not busy.”

“Is it ever?” Puck retorts with a nod. “Yeah, thanks. See you, dude.”

“I’m old enough to be your grandfather, and you call me dude.”

“Only if you had a kid at twelve!” Puck shakes his head and walks out with Kurt, sliding his arm around Kurt’s waist. 

“You’re going to out yourself,” Kurt comments, leaning against Puck. 

“I don’t even know anymore, K.” Puck sighs. “Can it just be June already? For so many reasons.”

“I know.” Kurt straightens and unlocks the Nav. “If we just keep driving.”

“Tempting.”

 

There’s a note on Puck’s bedroom door from his mom, asking them to put the casserole in the oven at 5 so that it’ll be done when she and Hannah get home. Puck sets the timer on his phone to remind him and then tosses the note in the trash, turning to look at Kurt. “Dammit. We have a final tomorrow.”

Kurt groans and flops onto Puck’s bed. “I don’t want to study.”

“What do you want to do?”

“I want you to come over here and undress me and give me lots of kisses. Everywhere. Everywhere kisses.”

“You’re starting to sound like me, blue eyes.”

“And you don’t sound like me sometimes?” Kurt raises an eyebrow. 

“Point.” Puck shrugs and lies down beside Kurt. “You’ve been more… understated. Since we got back.” Puck plays with the end of Kurt’s white tie. 

“Mmm. Yes.” Kurt rolls onto his side and faces Puck. “I can’t really explain it. It was— it was nice to stand out because I chose to stand out, and not for any other reason.” Puck nods a little, thinking about that statement. “And I do love clothes, but I will admit that sometimes I try to push the envelope because I’m thinking ‘why not? everyone’s already staring’.”

“Yeah.” Puck shrugs a little. “Not the same but sort of, after I didn’t have the ’hawk, people looked at me different. Or _didn’t_ look at me. Which.”

“Exactly.” Kurt nods. “So, I don’t know. I know what I like—and what _you_ like—and I’m trying to figure this out. Well. And we just won’t have much closet space.”

Puck laughs. “This is true.” He sobers a little and raises one eyebrow. “So. What _I_ like, hmm?”

Kurt raises an eyebrow in return and pokes him in the side. “Like you don’t know that you benefit. The dumb act hasn’t worked on me in a _long_ time, Noooahhh.”

“Yeah?” Puck grins and walks his fingers up Kurt’s chest. “You have me all figured out, huh?”

“Mmmhmm.” Kurt lets Puck slowly loosen the knot on his tie, then unbutton the top two buttons. “Don’t worry, baby. Your secrets are safe with me.”

“I know,” Puck agrees, then puts his mouth over Kurt’s collarbone. “Told you I was going to mark you up,” he mumbles against Kurt’s skin. 

“You did,” Kurt agrees, tilting his head back. “Promises, promises.” Kurt’s hand slides over Puck’s head and rests on his neck. “One of these days I’ll get to mark you, baby, and you’re going to look like a hyena or a jaguar or something.”

Puck chuckles and then nips at Kurt’s skin, pulling on it gently. Kurt sighs softly, his body arching towards Puck. Puck works at the spot for another long moment before pulling away. “I’ll look forward to that.” He presses a kiss to the darkened spot. “Wearing a scarf this week, K.”

Kurt giggles. “I already assumed that.”

“Oh? Maybe I should make your scarf–wearing worth the while.” Puck grins and moves his head to the other side of Kurt’s neck, laughing at the whine Kurt lets out. “Yeah, you like that,” Puck teases. 

“I do,” Kurt says, nodding a little. “I’d like it more if you’d finish undressing me.”

“Thought you said we had to study, blue eyes.” Puck presses his mouth to Kurt’s, the resulting kiss sloppy, tongues colliding happily. He runs his hand over the ‘v’ of exposed skin, under Kurt’s shirt. “Sadly neither of us are studying anatomy.”

Kurt giggles again. “It is sad,” he agrees, then sighs. “You’re right. We can reward ourselves for studying.”

“Mmm. Ten minutes of studying, fifteen minutes of reward?”

“I wish.” Kurt sticks his tongue out and Puck dives back down to take advantage of Kurt’s open mouth. “Eager little kitten.”

“Hey, I have to send you to bed alone tonight.” Puck nips at Kurt’s ear. “I have to take advantage of the time I’ve got.”

“True.” Kurt frowns. “Okay. Thirty minutes of studying, ten minutes of reward.”

“S’that your best offer?”

“It is.” Kurt looks positively mournful. “Better luck next Sunday. Or even on Friday.”

“Friday,” Puck repeats, sitting up halfway. “No dual enrollment.”

“None,” Kurt agrees. 

“And none at all the following week.”

“Very nice. But we should start studying.”

“I know.”

They’re in the middle of a ‘reward’ when there’s a faint noise of disgust from the doorway, followed by “Mom! They’re kissing again!” 

Puck pulls back from Kurt and glares at Hannah. “Is it that late already?”

“Uh-huh. Dinner’s supposed to be ready in five minutes, Mom says, _if_ you two remembered the casserole while you were kissing. Noah and Kurt, sitting on the bed—”

“Enough,” Puck says, shaking his head. “You’re impossible. K, help me remember this when _she_ starts being interested in kissing. In twenty-five years.”

Kurt laughs and sits up, rebuttoning his shirt. “I hate to burst your bubble, Puck, but I don’t think you’ll even get ten more years.”

“Damn.” Hannah walks off, rolling her eyes, and Puck straightens Kurt’s tie, then runs his hands through Kurt’s hair. “A big brother can hope, right?”

“Sure.” Kurt nods solemnly. “Now we should go eat that casserole.”

“Right.” Puck laughs and leans over, kissing Kurt softly. “C’mon, blue eyes.”

Rina’s in a good mood, laughing and teasing with all three of them, and Puck decides that he doesn’t want to rush the conversation they need to have, even if she is in a great mood. He and Kurt help Hannah with the dishes and then Puck knocks on his mom’s door just before they leave. “Hey, we’re leaving for rehearsal. Um, tomorrow night, after Hannah’s class, I need to tell you something.”

“Something bad?”

“What? No, no. Just something.” Puck shrugs. “Oh, and we know about Carole, by the way.”

“Ohh, good!” Rina grins. “Isn’t it exciting?”

“It is,” Puck nods. “So, yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mom. You’ll probably be in bed before I get home tonight.”

“Oh, you’re sleeping here tonight?” Rina smirks. “All right. Have fun, Noah.”

“Will do.”

“Going to tell her tomorrow?” Kurt asks softly as they step into the hallway. 

Puck shrugs. “Figure, well. I should, now.”

Kurt nods. “Probably.” He absently straightens his hat and then curls his fingers around Puck’s. “Ready to rehearse?”

“Oh, always.” 

 

When Puck walks into Kurt’s living room, he stops in his tracks, making Kurt bump into him. “What’s wrong?”

“I think Finn’s sick.”

“I can _hear_ you, dude,” Finn says. 

“I think you’re sick.”

“I’m not sick,” Finn says. “Why would you say I’m sick?”

“You’re reading a… play,” Puck finishes, leaning over to read the title. “Hey, I’m supposed to read that for English.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m reading it, too,” Finn says. “My teacher said we could all get extra credit if we read this and went to see the play at OSU. I don’t understand why everybody’s so angry, though. These are some angry people in this play.”

“Yeah, the major theme is appearance versus reality.”

Finn drops the book onto his chest. “What? Where’d that come from?”

Puck grins. “Pink Monkey.”

“There’s a monkey, too?”

“K, you didn’t tell him about Pink Monkey?”

Kurt looks a little sheepish. “Apparently not.”

“What’s Pink Monkey, why should I know about it, and how come I don’t?”

“It’s online book notes,” Puck explains. “I haven’t read a complete assignment all year.” He shrugs. “But I throw something into the discussion now and then and everyone’s all _oooh_.”

“Damn, I could have been doing that all year, man!” Finn throws his book on the ground. “Somebody should’ve told me!”

“Sorry,” Kurt says. “I thought you realized it last year when I stopped complaining about all the reading at Dalton.”

“Kurt, now, you know I don’t notice things,” Finn says. “Well, I notice _some_ things, but not those kinda things. I figured you stopped complaining because you’re smart.”

Kurt laughs. “There’s no way I could have kept up with that load. I am sorry.”

“But hey, now you know, right?” Puck says with a shrug. 

“And knowing is half the battle. Of course, knowing in _September_ might’ve been the whole battle.”

Kurt and Puck both shrug. “What’s on your agenda, benevolent dictator, sir?”

“Well, not finishing that stupid play, for starters,” Finn says. 

“Scoot over,” Kurt declares.

“I was here first. This sofa is my kingdom and I’m dictating over it,” Finn declares. 

Kurt looks at Puck and raises an eyebrow, and Puck nods after a second. “Yes, well, I dictate over you,” Kurt counters, and they sit down on top of Finn.

“Ow, hey!” Finn says, flailing. “I mean, it’s _true_ , but HEY!”

“You could have chosen to listen to him,” Puck laughs.

“I know. I chose poorly,” Finn says. “Just don’t wiggle around so much, Kurt. You’re squishing my guts.”

“Sorry,” Kurt responds, not sounding particularly sorry. “Maybe this will help develop core strength. I’m sure we can sit on you regularly if you need it.”

“Yeah, sure,” Puck agrees, nodding. “We can totally do that.”

“I have great core strength,” Finn protests. “But, fine, whatever. Sit on me if you want, it’s not like you hardly weigh anything. Just means you’ll have to answer the door when people get here later, and I’ll just lie here and direct.”

“No, it means I will,” Puck corrects him.

“Yeah, sucks to be you, dude,” Finn says. “Always having to answer the door all the time while Kurt just sits around on his brother and looks pretty.”

“I have other perks in my life.”

“Yeah, I just bet.”

Puck’s reply is cut off when the doorbell chimes. “And there is my cue.” Puck stands up and swings the door open, bowing slightly. “Welcome to Casa de Hudmel.”

Santana grins. “Are you the new doorman?”

“Kept man.”

“Kurt keeps him in his closet!” Finn calls out. “Mine’s not big enough.”

“Sometimes I get to stay on the bed.” 

“Me too!” Brittany says. 

“Yeah, me too,” Finn says.

Puck snorts and Santana looks at him appraisingly for a moment before moving further into the house. Puck starts to close the door and then notices Mike, Tina, and Artie approaching, so he steps outside to help Mike lift Artie inside. “Don’t take my seat,” he says jokingly. 

“I brought my own seat,” Artie says. “Where’s yours, though? I might upgrade.”

“I’m his seat!”

Puck shrugs. “What he said.” 

“Well that’s… outstandingly heterosexual of both of you,” Artie says. “I’ll stick with the seat I brought.”

Puck just grins and shrugs. He stays at the door as the rest of them arrive in a clump. “Hello, ladies, Quinn, Sam.”

“That’s a nice shirt,” Sam says, addressing Puck.

“Thanks.” Puck grins. “Come in, come in.”

“Are you auditioning for a new job?” Mercedes asks.

“No, but Kurt’s helping Finn with his core strength.”

“I don’t think I want to know what that means,” Quinn says. 

“And yet, you will anyway.” Puck shrugs and heads back into the living room, reclaiming his ‘seat’ on Finn’s thighs. Kurt’s still perched on top of Finn’s stomach, looking like this is all perfectly normal, which is only emphasized by Finn addressing the room as if it is, indeed, all perfectly normal. 

“First thing we should do tonight is talk about the Regionals performances,” Finn says. “Maybe start with the other groups’ and then ours.”

“Is there a reason you’re being used as a sofa?” Sam asks.

“I wouldn’t move,” Finn says, like it’s a completely valid explanation. 

“He wouldn’t,” Kurt agrees. “He left us no choice.”

“Ookay.” Mercedes looks mystified.

“Well, there’s certainly no other furniture in the room,” Artie says. 

“Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it,” Finn says. “I might major in being furniture next year.”

“That’s a comprehensive university,” Mike deadpans. 

“It might be a nice break after all the football.”

“There you go,” Kurt nods. “Why not.”

“Ok, so let’s start with Aural Intensity. What worked about their performance?” Finn asks.

“It was very energetic,” Kurt says. “I mean, swing dancing is good. Just not three songs’ worth.”

“I actually got a few ideas,” Mike admits. “Like Kurt said, we don’t need three songs’ worth of swing dancing, but the choreography wasn’t bad.”

“Those costumes were horrible,” Brittany says. “They made me want to cry. I did cry a little.”

“They were.” Kurt shrugs. “I felt bad for them, having to wear those.”

“I thought the dresses were sort of cute,” Rachel objects. 

“Girl, those were awful,” Mercedes counters. “I liked the songs.”

“I liked the songs individually,” Artie agrees. “Together they all sort of blended. It was overkill.”

“That pretty much sums it up: overkill,” Puck says, then looks at Finn. “What’s next?”

“The Liberteens. What worked, what didn’t?”

“The dancing was phenomenal. At least at first,” Tina amends. 

“They did sort of peter out about halfway through,” Finn says. “No stamina at all.”

“I’m not sure they actually rehearsed their vocals. How can we counteract the stamina issue, though?” Rachel looks around the room, like the answer is written on one of them. 

“Exercise,” Finn says, definitively. “Everybody should figure out a time every day to work out and start doing it. Weights, running, whatever floats your boat, but we should all start doing that.”

Mercedes stares at Finn incredulously. “Are you _kidding_?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Finn asks. 

“Too much vigorous exercise outdoors could damage my vocal cords!” Rachel protests.

“Then do yoga?” Puck shrugs. “Or that Pilates thing.”

Quinn gives Puck an incredulous look. “You know what Pilates is?”

“Yes, I’m a regular at the class at the Y.”

“Oh,” she answers, like she’s not sure if she should believe him or not, but doesn’t want to get into it with him. 

“Okay, so exercise, choreography, and not neglecting singing,” Mike says. “Does that mean it’s time to talk about us, Finn?”

“Yeah, time to talk about us. Let’s take it number by number,” Finn says. “Kurt, you want to start the video for ‘Tubthumping’?”

Kurt nods and hits the button on his remote–thing, the video starting to play. Everyone watches without interjecting any comments, and Kurt pauses it at the end of the song. 

“Well, that was pretty damn fantastic,” Finn says. “I know that’s not a constructive sort of statement.”

“It was, though,” Sam agrees. “No one fell or ran into anyone, and the singing was great.”

“Our outfits looked awesome,” Brittany says.

“Thank you,” Kurt says mildly. 

“Too bad we had to wear ties this time,” Puck says with a grin. 

“Hey, at least it wasn’t pink pants,” Finn says. “Black is much more slimming.”

“Again, outstandingly heterosexual,” Artie remarks. 

“I’m a positive influence,” Kurt says blandly. 

“It’s true. I’ve learned a lot,” Finn says.

Kurt starts the video again without comment, ‘Waiting on the World to Change’ playing away. 

“Well, it’s nice that we had that break from dancing,” Santana says. “We couldn’t have kept going straight through.”

“Yeah, definitely the right song order,” Finn says. 

“We probably can’t get away with doing choreography _that_ minimal at Nationals, though,” Kurt says with a frown. “Less, yes, but not quite that laid back.”

“That’s why workouts!”

“Right,” Kurt concedes. “Last song?”

Finn claps excitedly, jostling Kurt around. “Yay! Our song!”

“Hold still, sofa–brother,” Kurt orders, hitting play. 

“Whatever. You love it.”

“Mmm.” 

“That was pretty dope,” Santana says, looking at the three of them as the video stops. 

“Yeah, we were awesome,” Finn says. “Nothing wrong with that performance. Best song ever.”

“You could try being a little more comfortable with each other?” Mike laughs. 

“Well, Puck does keep giving me this _look_ all the time,” Finn says. “It makes me think I should check my pockets for explosives.”

“I am a well-known arms dealer. In a very limited circle.”

“Very limited arms. Only two arms.”

“Oh?” Mercedes raises an eyebrow at them. 

“I’m so excited about going back to New York!” Rachel says over Mercedes. 

“Me too!” Tina grins. “We get almost an entire day to sightsee!”

“Kurt’s making us a schedule thing. Or a list of things. Or something like that. Anyway, Kurt’s doing it, so it’ll be good,” Finn says. 

“I know you’ll all love the Circle Line cruise.” Kurt smiles sweetly, and Puck has to bite down on his lip to keep from laughing. 

“Hey, isn’t that the thing you said—”

Kurt bounces a little, like he’s just adjusting his position, and raises an eyebrow. “You were saying?”

“Oof. Nothing. I was saying nothing.”

“Good answer, dude.”

“You know, you’re heavier than people might think.”

Kurt shrugs. “Most people don’t really think all that much.”

“Probably true. Now hold still,” Finn says.

“I feel like I’m watching a G-rated adult film, and I didn’t actually think that was possible,” Santana declares. 

“Haven’t you _filmed_ one before?” Puck shoots back. 

“I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about that,” Brittany says, leaning towards Santana. 

Santana shoots Brittany a quick “shush!” and shakes her head. “Shouldn’t we, you know, rehearse?” Santana addresses the room at large.

“Rehearsing sounds like a great plan,” Finn says. “Hard to do when I’m a sofa–brother, though, so you gotta take that up with bossofme, here.”

“Should we let him up?” Kurt turns to Puck with a shrug. 

Puck pretends to think about it, then nods. “Yeah, probably. We can always appropriate him for being a sofa again another time.” Kurt nods, and they get up, looking at Finn expectantly. 

Finn hauls himself to his feet. “Yeah, that’s probably better. Wasn’t gonna get much done lying around underneath you two all night.” He dusts at his clothes like they’ve left butt prints on him or something.

Puck puts his hand to his mouth, the resulting sound between a guffaw and a snort. “Sure, dude.”

Finn gives Puck a confused–puppy look. “What?”

“Nothing,” Puck answers, pulling his best ‘dumb’ look, and he sees Kurt pressing his lips together. “We were gonna rehearse.”

“Oh, yeah! Right, we were. Mike, we were gonna start going through choreography for ‘This is War’, so why don’t you get us started?”

 

When Puck walks into physics the next morning, Kurt has a considering look on his face, watching the substitute at the front of the room. “What is it?” Puck whispers as he sits down. 

“I’ve seen her somewhere before.”

Puck studies her for twenty seconds or so before his eyes widen. “Remember the snotty woman, one of the times we picked Hannah up? The one that made me show my ID to pick her up?”

“Ohh.” Kurt nods. “The one that called us perverts.”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” Puck sighs and collapses onto his stool. “This is not what we needed after a night with little sleep.”

“No.” Kurt sighs. “How long until Sanders is back?”

“Didn’t she say it was going to be at least three weeks?” Puck shakes his head. “Maybe we’ll have a different sub each week or something.”

The substitute clears her throat repeatedly, and Kurt mutters “Umbridge School of Teaching,” under his breath as they all stop to look at the woman. 

“I’m Martha Strandberg. I’ll be supervising your physics class for the next few weeks. I don’t know how you’ve been doing things, but I have a few rules in my classroom. No off–topic discussions, including during laboratory time. This is a place of learning, not a social club. I do not hesitate to split up partners when necessary. You will address me as ma’am or Mrs. Strandberg. I do not answer to ‘Miz’, ‘Miss’, or ‘Ms’. I am a happily married woman and will be addressed accordingly. Finally, I am intensely interested in raising the culture of the school environment and as such may begin the first five minutes of class with items of note in that respect. This is not considered an off–topic discussion.”

Puck exchanges a look with Kurt. This woman is kind of crazy, in Puck’s opinion, and it looks like Kurt agrees with him, judging by Kurt’s raised eyebrows. “What the actual?” Kurt mouths at Puck, who shrugs. One of the juniors that sits in front of them turns around and looks at them sympathetically, shrugging slightly, and Puck blinks. Yeah, okay, so they thought most of the class had figured it out, but no one had ever acknowledged it before. 

“Are there any questions?” _Mrs._ Strandberg continues, but it’s pretty clear from the tone of her voice that she doesn’t actually want any questions. Puck raises his hand anyway. “Mr. …?”

“Puckerman. Yeah, I was just wondering if we’d be using the same syllabus, as well as your scientific qualifications.”

“Well, Mr. Puckerman.” She puffs up. “I have a teaching license and have been serving as a long-term substitute teacher for several years now. I have substitute–taught physics on three separate occasions now. And we will be using the same syllabus, with appropriate modifications.”

“Modifications?”

“The grade _I_ assign will take into account your overall deportment and demeanor in the classroom.”

Kurt’s lips are pursed and he looks suspicious; Puck’s suspicious, too, because he feels like he’s missing something, some kind of clue as to what she _really_ means. Puck sighs and lets his leg drop between their stools, resting his foot gently against Kurt’s ankle. Kurt moves his leg towards Puck with an answering shrug. 

“Now.” Mrs. Strandberg glares at the entire class. “Chapter Twenty-Six, Properties of Light.”

 

For the first time in weeks, Rachel falls into step with Puck as they leave English. “Do you think Mr. Schuester will realize that our hard work and rehearsal schedule did in fact make a difference?”

“Is the sky generally purple?” Rachel frowns and shakes her head. “Yeah, I’m betting on ‘no’, then.”

Rachel sighs. “You’re probably correct.”

Rachel sits off by herself slightly when they walk into the choir room, and Puck drops into the seat next to Kurt’s. “I’m suddenly shocked we didn’t get an assignment via email yesterday.”

“Hmm. Yes.” Kurt nods. “Maybe he’s going to spring one on us today.”

“Spring what?” Finn says, flumping into the seat next to Puck’s hard enough to scoot the seat back a few inches. 

“An assignment,” Puck answers. “Since we still have a whole two months before Nationals and everything.”

Finn frowns. “I might be able to put together a mashup of ‘Candles’ and ‘Hey Soul Sister’ if I’ve got a few minutes.”

“Hey, soul sister, light my candle— no, that’s hey soul sister and _RENT_ ,” Puck muses. 

“There we go. Let’s mash-up _RENT_ and, hmm. _Pirates of Penzance_.” Kurt grins. 

“I don’t think I could get away with talking about blowing somebody’s sister out, so hopefully we don’t have to sing something today,” Finn says.

Puck shudders. “Yeah, probably better not to do that.”

Schue walks into the room at that point, hoisting their Regionals trophy over his head, and Puck spares a moment to wonder how he managed to already get it away from Rachel. “Great job on Saturday, guys! Can you believe it? We’re headed back to New York City!”

“It’s simply wonderful, Mr. Schuester!” Rachel responds quickly. “We should begin important preparations like permission slips and packing lists immediately!”

“Well, I’m not sure about the packing lists,” Schue responds, looking a little puzzled, “but you are absolutely correct about permission slips, travel arrangements, and of course our set list!”

Finn stares at Schue like he’s an idiot, then turns to Puck and shakes his head, a disgusted look on his face. 

“Yeah, we already have hotel and flight reservations, Mr. Schue,” Puck says. “Fly out Monday afternoon, return Thursday late morning.”

“Oh. Well.” Schuester looks flustered. “How many rooms?”

“There won’t be a need to attempt to play musical chairs with any of us,” Kurt answers. 

“Yeah, exactly. We’ll figure out our roommates ahead of time.”

“Hey, I like musical chairs,” Finn says. 

“Of course you do,” Kurt murmurs quietly. 

“What? I do!” Finn leans over Puck to whisper back to Kurt. 

“Great, well then!” Schue smiles. “I thought we’d discuss our set list next week, so this week, we’ll go with the theme of ‘nostalgia’. Also, we do have to cover the mandatory ‘discussion points’ for representing McKinley.” Schue waves a packet of paper. “This is an initiative by Principal Figgins for groups representing McKinley at any competition with out–of–state competitors. It shouldn’t take more than twenty or thirty minutes to review, but I’d like us to get it done well ahead of May.” Schue grimaces a little. 

“What’s in it?” Artie asks. “Is it pretty standard stuff, no drinking or smoking?”

“Yes, that’s in there, of course,” Schue nods. “Also some pretty strangely worded stuff about comportment.”

Finn narrows his eyes. “Strangely worded how?”

“It looks like it’s been pulled from a Victorian charm school manual, frankly,” Schue admits. “It’s very strange. So I figured we’d go over it as soon as we can and promptly, well.” He shrugs. “Forget about it as much as possible, like we do most things Figgins does.”

Puck can’t suppress a laugh, and neither can most of the club. “Sure thing, Mr. Schue,” Santana cracks. “We’ll do our best to forget it.”

“I knew I could count on you guys!” Schue puts down the papers in his hand, looking vaguely guilty. “Now, does anyone else have any comments, either about our performance on Saturday, or about Nationals?”

Finn looks over at Puck and then across Puck to Kurt, raising his eyebrows. Puck shrugs and Kurt does the same. Puck notes that most of the rest of them are looking at Finn, too. 

“I think our performance at Regionals speaks for itself,” Finn says, slowly. “And Nationals… well, we’ve got a good start on that already, if you’re interested in hearing about it.”

It’s pretty obvious that Schue’s trying hard not to react, but to actually think before he says anything, which is something, Puck figures. Eventually, Schue nods slowly. “What kind of progress?”

“Set list. Mike’s been working on the choreography, though we’re still pretty early on with most of it, except for the stuff for the original song.” Finn grins. “Oh yeah, we’ve got another original song!”

“Oh, wow!” Schue looks startled. “That’s terrific. Could— would you guys like to let me hear it?”

Finn nods. “Yeah, I’ve got the CD here, if you want to listen. The choreography’s still real rough, but that’s mostly on me.” He rifles through his bag and hands the CD up to Schue. “Rach, you wanna show him?”

“Certainly!” Rachel springs to her feet and walks to the front of the room. “I think you’ll enjoy it, Mr. Schuester.”

Schue nods and starts the song, and Puck leans back, watching Schue’s face. Finn’s side of the choreography isn’t as rough as he claims, though Schue does wince at one point. When the song ends, Rachel and Finn walk back to their seats, and the whole of them look expectantly at Schue. 

“Wow. That was amazing! I like the arrangement, it’s much easier than adapting a pop standard to show choir.”

“So, you’re saying you like it, then?” Finn says. “You should tell Puck and Kurt that, since they wrote it.”

“Oh, well! Great job, guys.” Schue turns to look at them directly. “Really. It’s got a great feel to it, I think it’s a very strong offering.”

Puck inclines his head forward as Kurt nods a little in acknowledgement of Schue’s words. “Thanks,” Puck says after a second. “The parts for the band are written out, if you need to submit that to them ahead of time.”

“Oh, oh, right! Great!” Schue nods. “Okay, well, wow. Yes, you guys definitely have made some progress. All right. I know some of you have finals this afternoon, so we’ll wrap it up. You can tell me about the rest of your set list on Thursday?”

“Yeah, we can do that, Mr. Schue,” Finn smiles at him. “Thanks a lot!”

“Great! Remember, guys, nostalgia! See you Thursday.”

Finn stands up first and offers a hand each to Puck and Kurt, hauling them to their feet. Kurt bumps Puck’s shoulder lightly before they head towards the door, Finn walking beside them. 

“He liked your song! I mean, why wouldn’t he if he’s got any sense at all, but he liked your song!”

Puck laughs. “Well, we’ve debated the whole sense–thing before, right?”

“I’m more surprised he even asked about Nationals.” Kurt shrugs. 

“And didn’t freak out, even,” Finn agrees. “I know. I was expecting more yelling, but maybe he saw at Regionals how good we are when we do our thing.”

“Rehearsal: the new trend sweeping the show choir world.”

“Dude, you know you sound just like Kurt sometimes,” Finn says, shaking his head. “It’s almost creepy.”

“It’s like we spend a lot of time together or something.” 

“ _Dude!_ And now _you_ sound just like Puck.”

They exchange a look and laugh. “As fascinating as our speech patterns are—”

“—I have to go take my last math test. Ever.”

“Well, kick its ass, dude,” Finn says, with a solemn nod. 

“At this point? I just want to fucking pass it,” Puck admits. 

“You’ll do great,” Finn says. “Just watch out for surprise mushroom questions. Those are the worst.”

Puck snorts. “Sure thing. Later.”

 

“Are you taking another math course next quarter?” Mike asks as they leave the exam room. 

Puck shakes his head. “Nope. Once Ms. P said two quarters was enough for the whole graduation requirement, I told her there was no need to waste my time and everyone’s money further. You?”

“Same.” Mike nods. “Music school same as dance school? No math requirement?”

“Exactly.” Puck grins. 

“Hey, do you know if we’re keeping Tuesday morning rehearsals, or if we get a break for a couple of weeks?”

“Oh, hmm.” Puck frowns. “If you and I decide we get a break, and you tell Tina, and I tell Kurt, that’s at least four of us that don’t show.”

Mike laughs. “Sounds like a plan. Later.”

“Later, dude.” Puck climbs into the Nav, Kurt already in the driver’s seat. “Mike and I decided we don’t have rehearsal in the morning.”

Kurt grins. “All right. I can accept that.”

“We should enjoy the one or two weeks that it will last.”

“Yes.” Kurt sighs a little. “I think I’m going to work on Casey’s car instead of working, today. I know we still have almost two weeks, but I’d prefer it to be done by this time next week.”

“Yeah, makes sense.” Puck takes Kurt’s hand and squeezes it. “I think Mom’s making another casserole, we won’t want to miss that.”

“Be nice,” Kurt snorts. “At least they aren’t all Mexican casseroles.”

“I don’t know that we’ll ever be fully recovered from that week.”

“Watch, Pretzel will hate Mexican food.”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, probably.” Kurt pulls up in front of the apartment building and Puck leans across the console to kiss him briefly. “Be good, blue eyes.”

“I’m always good.”

Puck starts to walk up the stairs to his apartment, but then turns around and walks the two blocks around to the health department. It’s been six months, almost exactly, and it’s not like this is an activity to do together. He winces. Yeah, definitely not. 

Once again, he has to tell them he does, in fact, have sex with men before they agree to run a full panel. He fumbles a little on a few of the questions – their definition of ‘safe’ and ‘responsible condom usage’ is just a little different from his, is all. Whatever it takes to get out of there with minimal lecturing. Supposedly most places can do it without the fucking swab, but it figures that wouldn’t be the case in Lima. 

When Puck gets back home, he looks around his bedroom critically. Kurt’s right; they’re going to have very little space for anything in New York, much less clothes. He pokes around his drawers for a few minutes and frowns, then sends Kurt a text.

_How the fuck did I end up with six different belts?_

_Misbegotten Hanukkah presents?_

_You want a red bandana print nylon belt? Cause I’m thinking no_

_I’ll pass thank you. Laughing over here. Any other unfortunate finds?_

_Sweat–stained Lima North baseball cap. Yeahhh_

_Ew. Trash?_

_Yeah, definitely. How’s the car coming?_

_Going over the fuel injection system. I’ll have Dad look over it and see if I missed anything._

_You lost me at fuel :) Sounds good. See you for delicious chicken divan xx_

_Can’t wait xx_

Puck picks through a couple more drawers and dumps some stuff in a shopping bag to take over to the Goodwill or something. Even though he went through some of his clothes a year earlier, he’s steadily acquired more—really, it’s like he has a whole different wardrobe, actually—and somehow he figures he needs to pare it down a little more. 

“Noah!” There’s a loud clatter as Hannah runs into the apartment. “Guess what?”

“There’s a comet headed for earth?”

“Nooo.”

“There’s a garage sale this weekend that will accept donations of little sisters?”

“No! Mom!”

“Chill, squirt. What?”

“Mom told me Aunt Carole’s having a BABY!”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, she is,” Noah nods. 

“Isn’t that so cool?” Hannah grins. “Do you think it’s a girl or a boy?”

“Dunno.” Puck shrugs. “I know Finn hopes it’s a girl.”

“What about Kurt?”

“I’m not sure.” Because he’s not. The baby is so abstract for Kurt; aside from a few conversations with Finn, he doesn’t talk about the end result of the pregnancy. “I’m sure he’s mostly focused on the baby being healthy,” Puck concludes, and that’s not a lie. 

“Okay.” Hannah nods vigorously. “Of course! Do you think Aunt Carole will let me baby-sit in a few years?”

“Sure, probably.” 

“Cool!” With that, Hannah dashes off, this time towards her room. There’s a knock on the door as Puck is shaking his head, and he grins as he opens it for Kurt. 

“Mom apparently told Hannah about Pretzel.”

“Oh, good.” Kurt rests his head on Puck’s shoulder. “M’tired, baby.”

“Yeah, me too,” Puck admits with a sigh. “The three nights were awesome but did we just screw ourselves over for this week?”

“Maybe.” Kurt straightens and attempts to smile. “Casserole?”

Puck laughs. “Yeah, but first you should come look through the crazy stuff I found in my drawers.”

“Who knows what I might find in your drawers.”

“Your brother was right,” Puck says through his laughter. “You definitely sound like me.”

“And you like it.”

“You can check my drawers any time, blue eyes.”

 

Rina’s still in a good mood throughout dinner, though she does give Puck a speculative look as he and Kurt work on the dishes afterward. “I am going to run into the Save-A-Lot while Hannah’s in class, Noah. Is there anything I should get that’s not on the list already?”

Puck pauses in the middle of loading the dishwasher and thinks. “More oranges? And some asparagus. And chocolate. Always chocolate.”

“Oranges, chocolate, and asparagus. As long as you aren’t planning on making orange chocolate–covered asparagus.”

“Hey, great idea, Mom!” Puck grins. 

“Ewww.” Hannah puts her hands on her hips. “That’s gross. Kurt, how do you stand him?”

Kurt just smiles. “Oh, I have my ways, Hannah.”

“Have fun at class, squirt.”

“Okay!”

They make half-hearted stabs at their homework after that, most of Puck’s drive having disappeared in the face of auditions being over and decisions being made within a few weeks. He can’t imagine a music school rescinding an offer over physics.

When his mom and Hannah get back, Rina shuffles Hannah off to her room. “You need to get ready for bed!” she calls. “Shower!”

“Okay, Mom! Geez.”

Rina shakes her head and sits down in the chair, looking at Puck and Kurt on the sofa. Puck sighs a little and exchanges a long look with Kurt, then pulls out his phone, holding it in his hand for a long, quiet moment. 

“So.” Puck purses his lips. “I need to tell you something. Show you something.”

Rina frowns. “Is everything alright, Noah? Nothing bad has happened?”

“No, no,” Puck reassures her. “Just, um. I haven’t been entirely honest with you.” Kurt squeezes his hand and Puck squeezes back. “So, um. Yeah.” He flips through his phone until he finds what he’s looking for, then hands her the phone without comment. 

Rina stares at the picture in confusion, then looks up at Puck. “I don’t understand. Why are you showing me a picture of Hannah?”

“That’s not Hannah.”

“But… but Noah, who is this child?”

“There’s more,” Puck says, not really answering the question. “If you look through the album. There’s um, a lot more, really. Which is awesome, you know, even if a little weird, but the whole thing’s weird, so.”

“Noah,” Rina says, alternating between scrolling through the album and looking up at Puck in continued confusion or disbelief. “Noah, is this… this is Beth?”

Puck nods. “That’s Beth.”

“Where did you get these pictures?” Rina asks. “How did you get these?”

“From Shelby.” Puck swallows. “Um. Before I signed the papers, I asked her if I could have pictures and maybe see Beth sometimes. Like an open adoption. And she agreed. So she sends pictures and we email back and forth occasionally.” Puck shrugs. “She said I couldn’t see her until after I graduated high school. I think to make sure I was really interested?”

Rina puts her hand to her mouth and slumps back against the chair. “Noah. All this time, you’ve been getting pictures? And you never told me?”

“I didn’t tell _anyone_ for a long time,” Puck defends himself. “The only people that know are in this room right now.”

“I think I need a moment, please,” Rina says. “Noah, Kurt, if you’d please.”

“Uh, sure.” Puck exchanges a confused look with Kurt, who shrugs. Rina makes a shooing gesture in the direction of Puck’s room, which at least answers the question in Puck’s mind about leaving the living room or the entire apartment. They sit heavily on Puck’s bed and Kurt slides both arms around Puck. “I think I broke my mom,” Puck whispers.

Kurt snorts. “Probably a little.”

“I guess maybe I should have told her before, but you know how she can get sometimes.”

Kurt nods slowly, not replying verbally, and Puck closes his eyes, resting his head against Kurt’s shoulder. He stays that way for a long moment before Kurt speaks. “Puck?”

“Mmm?”

“Beth’s album is one of the ‘zoo’ ones, right?”

“Uh-huh.” Yeah, mislabeling albums is a little weird, but it keeps them at the bottom and less likely to be— oh. _Shit_. “Shit.” He stands up in a hurry. “Mom!”

When he steps into the doorway, Rina is still looking at the phone, and his eyes widen. “Um, you probably shouldn’t look at any other albums, uh…”

“Oh! Noah, yes, well,” she hands him the phone. “I’ve looked at the pictures. She’s a beautiful girl.”

Puck nods, pocketing the phone just to be sure. Maybe that hadn’t been the best plan, ever. “She is. Shelby takes really good care of her.”

Rina nods slowly. “It appears that way. And you said… you said she will let you see her after you graduate?”

“Yeah.” Puck nods, knowing he probably needs to be honest. “Um, she lives in Columbus. So. The day after graduation.”

Rina takes a deep breath. “I wish you had told me sooner, Noah. I… I would have liked to know that she was being well cared–for, that you’d seen pictures.”

Puck can understand that, sort of, but it wasn’t something he had been ready to tell anyone for a long time. He nods slowly. “I… couldn’t, really.”

“Well, I suppose it’s something that you’ve told me now,” Rina says. “Voluntarily, even. Thank you for showing me the pictures. Could you… would you send me a few of them?”

“Sure.” Puck nods. “Just, you know. Don’t show them around.”

Rina smiles a little. “Just for me.”

“Okay.” Puck nods again. “So, yeah.” He shrugs. “I don’t know how often or anything.”

“Alright. Well, as things happen, if you want to let me know,” Rina says. “For now, though, pictures.”

“Yeah, okay.” Puck starts easing backwards. “Um, sorry if you, uh.” He gestures uncomfortably in the air. “Albums. Yeah. I’ll just—”

Rina flushes a little, but waves her hand dismissively. “I saw nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Puck retreats to his bedroom on that note, collapsing back onto the bed beside Kurt. “Maybe the Beth pictures should be ‘zoo’ something and the others should be like, ‘zumba’ or something.”

Kurt laughs. “Maybe so. They’re xylophone on mine.”

“Xylophone.” Puck chuckles. “We’re strange, blue eyes.”

“There are far worse things.”

“True.” Puck yawns. “Tomorrow’s boring, right?”

“Not exactly,” Kurt confesses. “Tina sent an email out, asking any of us that are planning on going Thursday night to meet in the choir room at the beginning of lunch tomorrow.”

“Ah. Okay.” Puck nods. “Almost boring, then.”

“I’ll take it.”

 

Marla, the waitress at Waffle House, is thrilled when they sit down at the counter and place a regular order instead of a to–go one. “No more rehearsal?”

“Not for a couple of weeks at least,” Puck answers with a grin. “How’s your boys?”

“Trouble!” Marla laughs. “I think I should put my oldest in that science magnet, so he can take apart their electronics instead of mine!”

“Yeah, I want my mom to put my sister in the arts one,” Puck agrees. 

“It’s nice they’re K-8,” Kurt points out. “He could stay at the same school for several years.”

“That’s the truth,” Marla nods. “You boys excited about graduating? You never did tell me how New York was!”

“We brought you something,” Kurt grins, pulling out the ‘I <3 New York’ shirt they’d picked up for her. “It was amazing.”

“Oh, you boys.” Marla dabs at her eyes. “Eat your waffles.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

 

Physics is uncomfortable again; _Mrs._ Strandberg lectures the entire time, the rest of the room heavy and silent. Everyone scurries out of the room as soon as the bell rings, not heeding her comments of “I still have thirty seconds of material to cover!” It’s not like they can’t figure out the material, since she’s practically reading the textbook. 

Rachel sits down next to him in English with a perplexed look on her face. “You seem irritated.”

“We have the sub in physics. I don’t know. There’s something not quite right about her.”

“Not quite right?”

Puck shrugs. “Can’t put my finger on it, but I think everyone feels it.”

“Oh. Well. Are you coming on Thursday night?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.”

“I will as well. My dads will be attending, of course, as well as some of their friends. It sounds like we should have a large turnout. Is your mother going to be there?”

Puck stops and frowns. He’s not sure his mom even knows about the meeting. “Uh, probably not?” he decides on, and Rachel accepts his answer with a tiny frown of her own and a nod. 

Fourth period rehearsal goes… moderately well. The choreography for ‘This is War’ is pretty simple, so instead of rehearsing anything else (and Mike trying to work out more choreography for ‘Somebody Told Me’), they just run through ‘This is War’ over and over. And over. If the goal is to have them singing it in their sleep already, Puck thinks, then the goal has definitely been achieved. 

When rehearsal ends, Quinn leaves without a glance, her arm linked with Mercedes. Sam looks sort of sheepish. “I have to work tonight, so Tina said she’d hold me in reserve, plump up the numbers next month if necessary.”

“My aunt and uncle are in town from Duluth,” Artie says. “I’m happy to plan ahead for next month, though. Tina just needs to let me know.”

“I will!” Tina assures him. “Thanks, guys.”

The bell rings and about half of PFLAG makes its way into the choir room – Karofsky, Casey, Brown, and Rick, plus Taylor and some of the underclassmen he usually sits near. Lauren slinks in as well, scanning the room like she’s cataloging it for one reason or another. 

“Okay!” Tina calls out over the lower murmur. “First of all, I want to thank all of you for volunteering to come on Thursday night. I have a handout with guidelines for any signs that you want to bring.” She gestures towards the piano. 

“We’re, uh, supposed to bring signs?” Rick asks. 

“You don’t _have_ to bring signs,” Tina responds patiently. “But if you’d like to, Brittany and Taylor and I came up with a few strong suggestions as well as some sample ideas.”

“Foots, you and me are gonna go over to the Sheepdog’s place and make some signs,” Brown says. “You got it?” 

Rick looks at Karofsky and Casey with an uneasy expression on his face. Karofsky rolls his eyes. “Sure, invite yourselves to my house. Are you going to be there tomorrow, Thursday, or today?”

“Well, gee, I’m sorry,” Brown says, not sounding even slightly sorry. “I thought you might appreciate my artistic skill. If you want to make your own signs, I guess I can just find some other place to be.”

“Do you even _have_ artistic skill?”

“Sheepdog, have you _seen_ me? Everything about me is artistic.” 

“Flirt with Karofsky later, Brown,” Kurt says, and Casey giggles. “Tina?”

“Right!” Tina flashes a quick grin at Kurt. “So usually people don’t necessarily dress up to speak at school board meetings, but the three of us decided that we should try to show we’re taking this very seriously, so please, aim for business attire.”

Finn raises his hand. “I’ll pick your clothes, Finn,” Kurt says, sounding almost bored. Finn lowers his hand.

“For anyone else wondering,” Taylor says, “for guys, that means slacks, a buttondown, maybe a tie or a blazer.”

“Girls can wear nice shirts and skirts that don’t show any of your underpants, or nice pants, or a dress, but not a revealing dress,” Brittany says. “No stripper shoes. Unless your business is stripping, and that’s okay, too, but that’s not the same kind of business as the school board meeting, so don’t wear those shoes.”

“Basically, remember that we live in the most conservative district in the state,” Tina says with an apologetic shrug. “As far as I can tell from reading online, most of the school board is conservative as well. Some more so than others; we’re not going to convince Stanley, so it’s up to the other four.”

“Did you decide who’s going to speak?”

Tina nods. “I’m turning in the forms this afternoon. If you filled out a form and I don’t mention you, we’re holding you in reserve. This could take more than a month, easily. So. I’m going to go first, and the rest of you that are speaking, we’ll figure out the order there. Coach Beiste will speak, as well as Mr. Hummel.” She nods towards Kurt and Finn. “So. The other five are Santana, Mandy, Finn, Taylor, and Kurt.”

“Score.” Santana nods. “I’ll be there, looking demure.”

“I think I’ll pass on the demure, myself,” Kurt says with a little grin. 

“I’ll be de–Finn,” Finn says. “Close enough, right?”

“If those of you that _are_ speaking can pay— oh, nevermind,” Tina breaks off with a laugh. “Kurt, just make sure Finn’s tie is right. I heard about that.”

“I will do my best.”

“He’d never let me out of the house without my tie tied right,” Finn says. “Not if I was some place he was gonna have to look at it.”

“That is—” Kurt stops himself. “Probably true, actually. We’re not even going to talk about my father.”

The entire room laughs collectively. “I knew we could count on you!” Tina adds. “So, yes. We’ll be near the end of the agenda. If you’re speaking, you have five minutes, tops. Please practice and aim for about four minutes and forty-five seconds. Notecards or other aids to remember your points would probably be an excellent idea.”

“What should we talk about?” Finn asks. 

“First, everyone should state the reason they are speaking. ‘I am here to speak about changing the wording of the bullying policy and related policies to further protect all students in Lima City Schools’. I’ll email that out to all of you. From there, it’s up to each of you if you’d like to be more personal or incorporate more statistics. I will say that I plan to use a fair number of statistics, so please let me know what you have so we don’t just sound like carbon copies of each other.”

“Also, the other thing?” Taylor says quietly.

“Oh, right.” Tina nods. “Remember that we want to speak about protection for all of our alphabet soup. LGBTQI.”

“That’s right,” Brown says. “We love _all_ the people.”

“And this could be enough of a fight as it is,” Tina says quietly. “We need to get as much protection in there as we can.”

Finn leans across Puck to whisper to Kurt, “What’s the ‘I’ mean?”

“Intersex,” Puck answers quietly before Kurt can respond. 

“Explain that later,” Finn says.

“What do you mean?” One of the younger girls speaks up. “About it being a fight?”

Lauren snorts. “Don’t you watch the news? Or look at anything on YouTube?”

“Um. Yes?”

“You haven’t seen any of those videos of the city councils, where people are saying all that bigoted stuff?” Lauren asks. “And I’ve been in some of those meetings, kiddo. Lima’s on the low end of the tolerance pool. You’ve got no idea what some of these guys say in there, or you’d know what kind of fight you’ve got on your hands.”

“I’m waiting until tomorrow to submit the forms, because it’s as late as I can do it and still have us speak. If the fact that we are speaking gets out too quickly, there will be organized opposition.” Tina sighs. “Tomorrow’s just the opening round, in all likelihood. We might get lucky and win. If we don’t, we’re going to have to prepare for a bit of a storm.”

Kurt lifts his chin a little. “I think I speak for most, if not all of us when I say this. _Bring it_.” Puck can hear Finn on his left trying really hard not to burst out laughing. 

Tina grins. “You bet.” She looks at all of them. “You heard the man. We’re ready for this. Some of us are allies, but we’re proud to stand with you.”

 

It’s the first Tuesday for a month where Puck and Kurt aren’t headed towards Toledo; Dr. V said they could try every other week for awhile, see how that worked, and Puck has to admit that not paying the co-pay and not driving that far every Tuesday will be nice. Kurt’s exam doesn’t start until two and is scheduled until four, so Puck takes his time with shoving his stuff in his backpack and then heading towards the door. 

He slumps onto the bench inside the door, because it’s raining and hovering just above freezing outside. He starts to pull out his earbuds when Brittany sits down next to him.

“Hello, Puck. You’re sitting on the bench,” she says.

“Hey, Britt. Yeah,” he agrees. “I am.”

“The bench isn’t very interesting.”

“No.” Puck shrugs. “But it’s a place to sit while I wait.”

“Ooh, what are we waiting for?” Brittany asks. “Is it something good?”

“Just waiting to go home,” Puck answers. “In multiple senses of the word.”

“That sounds like something good to wait for,” Brittany says, nodding. “Are you also waiting for Kurt?”

Puck grins. “The two kind of go together.”

Brittany nods sagely. “That must be nice, to keep them in the same place.”

“It is.” Puck looks closely at Brittany. “You heard from ISU or FSU yet?”

“Yes.”

“And?” Puck raises his eyebrows. “Good news?”

“I think so,” Brittany says. “FSU would like me to come and be their dancer. Also, I am going to join the circus.”

“That’s awesome!” Puck grins. “So you’re going to be warm practically all year?”

“Except on trips home, but maybe they’ll come visit me instead. We can eat Thanksgiving while I hang from the trapeze by my feet.”

“Sounds pretty awesome.” Puck shrugs. “You might want to get off the trapeze for digesting, though.”

“I saw a midget at the circus who could eat standing on his head,” Brittany says. “Only, really, he was a little person. Midget isn’t polite.”

“Right, yeah. Some of the circuses aren’t very nice, either, though. You don’t do any animal stuff, right?”

“No, just hanging upside down from various parts and swinging through the air,” Brittany says. “It’s like Cirque, not like Barnum.”

“Cool. I bet you’ll be good at it,” Puck shrugs. 

“Thank you, Puck!” Brittany beams at him. “I’m sure you’ll be good at your college, too.”

“Thanks, Britt.” Puck smiles slightly. “Hopefully.”

“You can send me postcards from New York.”

“Sure. And you can send us sand.”

“I’ll send you videos of my circus.”

“Awesome.” Puck grins and stands. “And there’s my ride. See you tomorrow, Britt.”

Brittany waves at Kurt. “Both of you go be good.”

Puck laughs. “Oh, we will!” He dashes through the rain to climb into the Nav, slinging his backpack in the floor. “Hey.”

“Hi.” Kurt grins. “We don’t have to drive anywhere today.”

“No, we don’t.” Puck returns the grin. “Whatever can we do, blue eyes?”

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of a few ideas.”

They walk into Kurt’s house, hands joined and swinging loosely between them, but once they’re inside and their shoes are off, Puck presses his body against Kurt’s, leaning them against the wall and kissing him softly. After a moment, Kurt’s lips part underneath his, and Puck slips his tongue inside, running it along Kurt’s tongue and through Kurt’s mouth. 

Puck pulls away after a long moment, resting their foreheads together. “Why don’t you take me upstairs?”

“That’s an excellent idea.” Kurt grins and tugs on Puck’s hands, walking backwards and pulling Puck with him. “Spread you out underneath me,” Kurt continues, “pound you into the mattress.”

“Okay,” Puck breathes, following Kurt up the stairs. “Sounds like a good plan.”

“Thought you’d like it.” Kurt grins and spins in place as they enter the bedroom. “Going to help me out, baby?”

“Mmmhmm.” Puck slides a hand inside Kurt’s sweater–thing, pushing it off his shoulders. “Gladly.”

Kurt closes his mouth over Puck’s, both of them working at the other’s clothes until they finally pull apart, both completely naked. “Much better,” Kurt pronounces. 

“I agree.” Puck laughs and pulls Kurt against him. He runs his hands slowly down Kurt’s back and then cups Kurt’s cheek in one hand. “So much better.” Puck closes the distance between them, the kiss turning quickly from slow and gentle to sloppy and hard. 

Kurt slowly walks backward, taking Puck with him until they fall sideways onto the bed, sprawling out and laughing. “Turn over,” Kurt demands after a moment, and Puck just grins and does so. 

“And?”

“Shush.” Kurt trails his hands down Puck’s back. “I already told you what I was going to do.”

“I know. I’m looking forward to it.”

Kurt sighs contentedly. “I know you are.” One finger trails around Puck’s entrance slowly and teasingly. “So am I,” he continues, his voice dropping. There’s the click of the top of the bottle and Puck closes his eyes, focusing on the sound of Kurt’s hand on his cock before he pushes at Puck’s entrance. “Like this, baby?”

“Yes.” Puck rocks backwards slightly. “Yes, please, fuck, blue eyes, yes.”

Kurt pushes in slowly and Puck relaxes around him, breathing deeply. “Ohh, god, baby. You feel _so_ good, _so_ tight, want you so much, Puck.”

Puck can hear himself groan a little, moving into Kurt’s slow thrust, and he nods. “Yeah, fuck, right there, K.” Kurt stops once he’s fully inside, running his hands along Puck’s ass and then snaking one hand to grasp Puck’s cock. 

“So nice and hard for me,” Kurt murmurs. “Love feeling you all around me, baby, tight and warm.”

“Yeah, love this,” Puck agrees, moving his hips until Kurt starts to move again. “Feels so good, K, filling me up, just— yeah, just like that, more, fuck, harder, K.” Kurt does just what he said he was going to do, pounding into Puck from behind, hard and fast. Kurt’s hand moves up and down Puck’s cock, smearing the fluid leaking from the tip down the sides, and Puck can tell he isn’t going to last much longer. He tightens around Kurt with a grin, listening to the low hum in Kurt’s throat, and then does it again. This time Kurt slams in deep with a grunt, coming a second after with a low cry. His hand flies over Puck’s cock and Puck comes as well, his answering moan mostly muffled by the bedcovers. Kurt collapses on top of him and Puck grins, eyes closed. 

“M’your new blanket,” Kurt announces a moment later.

“Okay.”

Kurt giggles. “No complaint with that?”

“Nope!” Puck answers cheerfully. “Can we stay here for awhile?”

“Sure.” Kurt’s head rests in between Puck’s shoulders. “I like that plan.”

“Me too, blue eyes.”

 

After fourth period the next day, Kurt drops Puck off at home before going to his other final, and Puck putters around his room more, accomplishing pretty much nothing before going to work. The bag to donate does get joined by a second one, but considering that he hadn’t looked in the bottom drawer in two years, that was hardly surprising. 

When he gets to work, Ms. Horatio is there, and she waves at John to keep working and for Puck to sit down with her. “What’s up?” Puck asks, confused.

“You’ve been here a year!” She grins at him. “Did you forget?”

“Um… yeah,” Puck admits. “But yeah I guess that makes sense.”

“You’re one of my best workers,” she continues. “No complaints! And I have to admit, usually the raise is pretty standard.”

“Raise?”

She laughs. “Yes, you get a raise. But I did some checking, since you’re going to be leaving us this summer.” She frowns now. “Starting pay in your city, Mr. Puckerman, is what I pay someone who’s been with me for two years. I’d like to tell you that you’ll find a manager who’s fair, and ups your pay to the appropriate level. You and I both know, though, that many managers would maybe even bump you up, and then be proud of themselves for getting someone experienced for less than typical starting pay.”

“Oh.” Puck nods after a minute, because yeah, he can see that. Hell, if he were a manager, he might even be tempted to do the same, and that is a scary thought, too – him as a manager. “Yeah, I can see that.”

“But frankly, I can’t justify giving you the full raise to New York rates from now until you leave. So I’m giving you half the raise now, and then in June, you’ll get paid at the New York rate. It’s enough that your paychecks will look like you’ve been at the rate long enough for them to be fair with you in New York, all right?”

Puck blinks. “Wow. Um. Thank you. I— wow.”

“I’ve rendered him speechless!” She laughs. “It’s a miracle. There’s just one condition.”

“Okay?” Puck wonders what it could be.

“You send me wedding pictures when the time comes.”

Puck grins. “I’ll see what I can do about that.”

“See that you do.” She smiles again. “Now get to work. You’ll see a difference on your paycheck Friday.”

“Sweet. Thanks.” Puck nods as he stands, taking over for John. 

 

“Well, that’s your area,” Kurt insists. “I’ll just nod and smile.”

“What was it you say? Someone has to lie there prettily?” Puck says on the other end of the phone.

“Exactly.” Kurt grins. “Be good.”

“I’m always good.”

Kurt puts down his phone and pokes irritably at the physics book in front of him. He doesn’t even have any physics homework due, but the very presence of it reminds him of their odd substitute. He looks up after a moment and raises his eyebrows. “Would you like to come all the way in, Finn? Or were you thinking about being a door instead of a sofa?”

“I might make a good door,” Finn says. “I’m tall.”

“Perhaps not quite broad enough, though,” Kurt muses. 

“Gimme time, dude,” Finn says. “End of next year, maybe the year after, I’ll totally be all door–filling or whatever.”

“For now, though, do you want to sit down?” Kurt gives his physics book a final irritated look and then shoves it off the side of the bed. 

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Finn says. “Did your book piss you off?” He sits gingerly on the foot of Kurt’s bed, like he’s afraid of meeting the same fate as the physics book. 

“It’s a symbol. We have this substitute for physics. There’s something off about her.”

“Is it her face?”

Kurt laughs. “Her face is equally uninspiring, but no.” Kurt sighs. “It’s actually not the first time we’ve met. One time back in the fall when we were picking up Hannah, she was there. She made Puck show her his ID.” He snorts. “She also said something that sounded suspiciously like ‘perverts’.”

“Oh, shit,” Finn says, frowning. “That’s not good. Is this gonna be a problem or something? Do you think she remembers you? Should we complain to somebody?”

“I doubt it.” Kurt shrugs. “But she has this weird spiel about raising the culture of the school environment and how she grades based on deportment.”

“Wait, she’s gonna ship you guys off somewhere?”

“No, not being deported. Deportment, like… manners.”

“She’s gonna grade you… on manners?” Finn looks confused. “Is that even allowed?”

“She seems to think it is. Like I said, there’s nothing specific, nothing we can put our finger on, but – it’s just not quite right.”

“Well, just keep me posted,” Finn says, looking righteously determined. “If anything happens, we’ll figure it out. Well, probably somebody else will figure it out, but,” he shrugs. “PFLAG bouncer?”

“Finn, I am pretty sure Carole and I don’t want to have to bail out half of the inhabitants of the household.”

“I guess some of us don’t like, uh, injustices or whatever.”

“There are just multiple ways to deal with them.” Kurt shrugs again. “Are you ready for tomorrow night?”

“Yes?” Finn says. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

“It’s hard to decide how personal to be,” Kurt says, nodding. “Too clinical and it doesn’t engage the listener, but too personal, and it’s not about everyone at that point.”

“I was just gonna talk about what it was like to be the brother,” Finn says. “I think I’m bad at clinical stuff.”

Kurt stifles a giggle at the thought of the _last_ time they talked about anything ‘clinical’. “Just make sure you have the length down, or Tina will flay you. Not really, she’d just make you wish you’d been flayed instead of disappointing her.”

“I don’t want to disappoint Tina,” Finn says, nodding slowly, his eyes wide. “I’ll practice. In the mirror, or, I dunno. I guess in the mirror, since I don’t really have anybody else to practice on.”

“You should see if your history teacher will give you extra credit for attending or speaking.”

“Yeah, I should do that!” Finn grins. “Are you nervous?”

“Hmm. Yes and no. I don’t have a problem with speaking. The actual speaking doesn’t make me nervous at all. People’s reactions, the fallout, what might be said to any of us – that makes me nervous.”

“What, uh. What do you think could happen? Do you think it’s gonna get ugly in the meeting?” Finn furrows his eyebrows. 

“At this meeting? No, probably not,” Kurt concedes. “But there will doubtless be reactions afterwards. If or when this requires additional meetings, there will be people there with signs. There will probably be opinions and letters in the newspaper. Some of the teachers at school will be unhappy that we’re ‘airing dirty laundry’ for the rest of the community. Some of the kids at school will be unhappy.” Kurt smiles, but there’s no joy in the smile. “Bring a change of clothes on Monday, at the latest.”

“Kurt, how bad, do you think?”

Kurt sighs. “I don’t know. It depends on who takes notice of us. Worse case? Phone calls.” Kurt presses his lips together. “Vandalism.”

“Is it gonna make things worse at school, do you think?” Finn asks. “The bullying. The physical stuff.”

“It will either make it worse or better. It won’t stay the same. It may make it better because the administration and faculty decide to show that we don’t need an additional policy. Some of the other students may be embarrassed by the attention brought to the behavior and exert pressure to stop it.”

Finn nods. “We’ll step it up at school a little. Maybe us bigger guys can keep an eye on the little guys for a while. Kinda used to that by now, anyway, so.”

“People don’t like it when the queers get to speaking up. It’s even worse when we band together to do it.”

There’s a long pause before Finn answers, “Yeah, I guess it would be.”

“I’d love to be wrong. I’d love the school board to listen to us, announce how foolish the current policy is, and vote to change it on the spot. I just don’t think that’s likely, though.”

“Probably not,” Finn sighs. “People are so stupid. And that’s, like, _me_ saying that, so, you know. They must be _really_ stupid, right?” 

“Stop it. And stupid is better than mean. Stupid can be taught.” Kurt tilts his head to the side. “I’m not so sure that we can do a single thing about mean.”

“Yeah, I don’t think there’s a fix for that, though I’d love it if there was.”

“Except that for every kid that’s mean and is backed by someone who’s merely stupid, we can take away their back-up.”

“Like Rickenbacker,” Finn says. “We de-stupided him.”

“Yes. We really did. We should put him on a poster.” Kurt grins. “Or at the very least describe him in generic terms to the national organization. I’m sure they collect stories like that.”

“Yeah, I can just see him on a poster. Well, he doesn’t really have a poster kind of face, but maybe like a cartoon of him or something?”

“That might be kinder.” Kurt grins wryly. “Enough, though. Tell me something good.”

“Hmm. Oh! Ok, so I talked to Jamie and we traded some emails with Doug, and it looks like we might all end up getting stuck together in a room in the new dorm, if they finish it in time!”

“Brand new, hmm? That is good. Well, assuming, as you say, that it’s finished.” Kurt laughs. “Now I have an image of the three of you living in a dorm room with no walls, just the framing.”

“No beds, just sleeping on the floor like a bunch of hobos,” Finn says. “Sad.”

“It would be. It would also be hilarious, and I would demand many pictures.”

“I’ll probably send you many pictures anyway,” Finn answers, grinning. “What else am I gonna do? Classes and football, but it’s not like I’ve got some awesome set of stuff to do other than that.”

“Don’t decide to take up scrapbooking like your mother.” Kurt shudders. “Aren’t you going to keep singing?”

“Yeah, there’s that group, but I dunno.” Finn shrugs. “We’ll see about that. I still don’t entirely agree with your, uh, assessment or whatever. About my post-Lima marketability.”

“You won’t know if you don’t try,” Kurt points out, voice sing-songy. 

“I won’t fail if I don’t try, either,” Finn sings-songs right back.

“I’ll blackmail you.”

“With what? I think I’m pretty openly embarrassing. No deep dark embarrassments to blackmail me with.”

“I’ll find something. I have a few months, still, right?”

Finn nods. “Just ask Puck. I’m sure he can tell you all about my bad haircuts and the fourth grade rubber cement thing, oh, or the science lab thing in seventh grade. Oh! Oh! The time we went on the field trip to the Lima Correctional Institute in second grade and I got so freaked out I made Puck hold my hand.” Finn frowns. “Except, well, now you know all of those.”

Kurt laughs. “Maybe he has some pictures. I can email them to you daily. ‘Try out, Finn, or I send these to Jamie and Doug’.”

“Are you kidding? That place was fucking _scary_ , dude,” Finn says, shaking his head. “You’d have been holding somebody’s hand, too. I almost peed.”

“We never went there, for whatever reason. But I’ve always wanted to tour Alcatraz, so maybe I wouldn’t have.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of weird,” Finn says, shaking his head. “I saw that movie where they went on the tour of that. It was funny. The movie, not the tour.”

Kurt shrugs. “It just sounds interesting. Of course, most of San Francisco does, to me.”

“Yeah, it looks really nice, except that one street, dude.” Finn shudders. “Nightmares.”

“I was thinking more like the cable cars and the Castro. We’ll bring you a shot glass or five.”

“I am liking my shot glass collection.”

“Good.” Kurt grins. “We meant to grab you one on Saturday, but we never made it even anywhere near the gift shop.”

“Guess you’ll have to go back some time. Shot glasses are serious business.”

“Oh, definitely.” Kurt nods solemnly. “Tried to get you one from the building where Puck’s psychiatrist is, but they didn’t make any. Can you believe it?”

“They’d be _really_ small shot glasses, anyway,” Finn says. “Because, _shrink_ glasses, right?”

Kurt groans. “Awful. Awful, Finn.”

“Awful is part of my charm.”

“Explains a few things.” Kurt smirks. 

 

Their physics class has, Puck decides, settled into an uneasy stalemate with Mrs. Strandberg. They don’t talk – not during her reading of the textbook, and not during her five minute ‘discussion period’ at the beginning of the class either. So far, she’s read one newspaper clipping and two stories from one of those _Chicken Soup for the Soul_ books. 

After Zeke left, Puck remembers someone giving his mother one of them. For the divorcing soul, maybe, or the single mother; Puck can’t remember. He _can_ remember his mother reading about thirty pages and then setting fire to it in the backyard, the day before they moved. 

So far Mrs. Strandberg just looks at all of them disappointedly when no one responds during the discussion. There’s a little bit of scorn present by Thursday morning and Puck feels uneasy. Detente, Kurt called it – but neither of them think it will last. 

No one at the school has ever talked about a school board meeting before, so it’s no surprise that it’s not mentioned, but Puck knows it’ll be different by the next day. He settles into the back row as the final bell rings, waiting for everyone to arrive. Kurt shows up next, looking surprisingly harried for someone who didn’t have class all afternoon. “What’s up?”

“Dad found one last thing on the car, so I’ve been at the shop for the last two hours,” Kurt explains. “Wasn’t sure I was going to finish up in time. Dad’s going to run it back over to the body place for detailing today or tomorrow.”

Puck nods. “So that’s it, right?”

“Yes. With a week to spare, miraculously.”

The room slowly fills, and Puck tells himself that he is _not_ being melodramatic or overly dramatic or any other form of dramatic when he thinks that there’s a definite hint of anticipation in the room. 

Okay, maybe it is a little dramatic, he concedes, especially when he imagines a collective intake of breath when Mr. Schue walks in. Projection of the evening’s anxiety onto a glee club rehearsal? Check. Probably should do something about that. 

“All right, guys, I’m excited to hear what you’ve come up with for our nostalgia assignment!” Schue smiles at all of them. “Any volunteers to go first?”

“I will,” Tina says after a moment. “I’m going to do ‘Stay’.”

“The ’90s song?” Schue interrupts, and Tina nods with a little grin before starting the song. 

_and you say I only hear what I want to:  
I don't listen hard,  
I don't pay attention to the distance that you're running  
or to anyone, anywhere,  
I don't understand if you really care,  
I'm only hearing negative: no, no, no._

_So I turned the radio on, I turned the radio up,  
and this woman was singing my song:  
the lover's in love, and the other's run away,  
the lover is crying ’cause the other won't stay._

“Oh, man, what a blast from the past,” Schue chuckles. “Great job, Tina. I don’t know if it inspires nostalgia in all of you as much as it does for me, though! Who’s next?”

Kurt stands up and heads to the front of the room, shrugging slightly. “I can go ahead.” Puck recognizes the tune as soon as it starts and grins a little. 

_Sometimes I get the feelin'  
I was back in the old days – long ago  
When we were kids, when we were young  
Things seemed so perfect – you know  
The days were endless, we were crazy – we were young  
The sun was always shinin’ – we just lived for fun  
Sometimes it seems like lately – I just don't know  
The rest of my life's been just a show_

_Those were the days of our lives  
The bad things in life were so few  
Those days are all gone now but one thing is true  
When I look and I find I still love you_

“Another great choice.” Schue nods a little, almost to himself. “Queen, good choice. You know, some of these songs might be contenders to perform at graduation, but let’s not get too ahead of ourselves.” He grins a little, like he’s made a great joke. “Next!”

Santana marches up to the front of the room without comment, just leans in to say something to Brad before starting to sing. 

_I wrote this for my prettiest friend  
But while trying not to prove that I care  
I was trying not to make all my moves in one motion and scare her away  
Well she can't see she's making me crazy now  
I don't believe she knows she's amazing how  
She has me holding my breath  
So I'll never guess that I'm a nonesuch unsuitable, suited for her _

_And if you ask me  
The feeling that I'm feeling is complimentary  
And oh, it goes to show  
The moral of the story is girl loves girl  
And so on, but the way it unfolds is yet to be told_

“Great job, Santana. Nice arrangement of the song, too,” Schue compliments her before looking around the room expectantly. Finn raises his hand.

“I’ll go,” he offers, standing up at the front of the room. “So this one is by the Vaccines, and I really like it, so.” Finn shrugs and starts singing.

_If at some point we all succumb  
For goodness sake, let us be young.  
’Cause time gets harder to out run,  
And I'm nobody, I'm not done.  
With a cool, cool breeze and dirty knees,  
I rest on childhood memories.  
We all got old at breakneck speed,  
Slow it down, go easy on me._

The song is subdued but catchy, and he can guess why Finn likes the song. _He_ looks relaxed, Puck can’t help but think, and Finn sits back down without comment as the song ends. 

“Fantastic. All right, so. You guys said you had more of the set list for Nationals?”

Finn nods. “Yeah, we’ve got the whole thing, actually.” His tone is polite, but there’s obviously not any room for argument there if Schue decides he has a problem with the set list. “Everybody liked the dancing from Invitationals, but we didn’t think that would go over so well in Ohio. Now, New York?” Finn glances over at Kurt and grins. “And, well, apparently the first place our brain goes when we think about gay dancing is the Killers.”

“‘Somebody Told Me!’” Tina pipes up. “And Finn, it’s only _half_ gay dancing.”

“Ok, so it’s _bi_ dancing then,” Finn says, winking at Tina. “Like Tina says. Only half the pairings are same-sex, so it’s a cool mix of partners. Mike can tell you more about that, because I’m not the one who can explain why who’s with who.”

“We can show you at some point,” Mike offers. “But I think we’ve got a good mix of showcase and shoring up the weaker links. No offense to those of you that are the weaker links.”

“None taken,” Finn says. “So, that’s two of ’em, anyway. The third one is… you remember that song Puck did in class that time, ‘This is War’?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Schue nods. “Oh, wow, yeah, okay.” He pauses. “So, um, you have the parts assigned already?”

“Some. All of ‘This is War’, not much of ‘Somebody Told Me’,” Finn says. “Duet’s a go already, obviously, since, you know. Only requires two.”

“Right, right,” Schue chuckles. “Okay.” He takes a deep breath and makes a pained face. “What do you need from me?”

Finn’s face scrunches up into his thoughtful look. “It would be nice to be able to have our afternoon practices back. Mike’s got a good handle on the choreography and we’ve been managing the vocals pretty well, but it would be nice to have someone watching us from the seats to tell us what we’re missing.”

“We probably could use another Saturday, though,” Mike interjects, looking at the rest of them almost apologetically. “Five or six hours to knock all the choreography out.”

Schue looks a little stunned. “Wow. Okay, well, sure.” He nods a little. “Uh, I could pick up sandwiches for the Saturday?” He offers Finn a small smile.

Finn grins back. “Sure. Not this Saturday, though. PFLAG movie night and I just think maybe the weekend off might be a good thing.”

“Next Saturday?” Mike offers. “The twenty-fourth?”

There’s a general rumble and exchange of glances and nods, and then they all look at Schue. “All right, the twenty-fourth,” he repeats. “Well.” He glances at the clock. “I think some of you have somewhere to be later?”

“Are you coming tonight, Mr. Schue?” Tina asks, standing up. “The more people we have there, the better.”

“Yes, I was planning to attend,” Schue agrees. “All right. Good luck, guys. See you tomorrow.”

 

The Hudmel house after dinner reminds Puck of a whirlwind. Carole’s fussing about clothes not fitting, he thinks; Burt’s asking Kurt if he’s sure that he can’t wear a flannel shirt with a tie; and Finn’s just standing in the hall looking almost forlorn. 

“None of this looks right,” Finn says. “My ties are too… colorful or something.”

“Of course they are when you’re wearing a red shirt.” Kurt shakes his head. “White shirt, grey pants.”

“Oh, ok. Yeah, that’ll work.” Finn starts to head back into his bedroom, then stops. “Uh, could you maybe. My tie?”

Puck ducks his head to hide the grin on his face as Kurt sighs and shakes his head a little. “Hand it here.” Kurt makes quick work of it, handing it back to Finn. “Now, _I_ have to get dressed. Put on the black blazer, by the way, Finn.”

“Ok. White shirt, grey pants, black blazer. Check.”

Kurt sighs and looks into his closet. “I think I have to forgo the two–color suit options.”

“Probably,” Puck agrees, pulling on his own pants. 

Kurt sighs and finally pulls out a black suit and a black pinstriped vest, getting dressed quickly before stepping close to Puck. “Tie my tie?” he asks with a grin.

“You bet.” Puck takes the tie from Kurt’s hand and knots it carefully, then fastens Kurt’s vest and tucks the pocket square into his jacket. “Looks good, blue eyes.”

“Why thank you.” Kurt smiles and brushes his lips over Puck’s. “You look good, too, baby. And I didn’t even have to tell you what to wear.”

“Nah, you just bought like half of it for me.”

“Point,” Kurt concedes with a grin. “Let’s go check on Finn, though.”

When they arrive in Finn’s doorway, Finn is wrestling his way into his blazer, but is otherwise dressed and unrumpled. “We all look presentable,” Puck comments.

“I have my note cards in my pocket,” Finn says. “I hope they stay in order. I’m allowed to read off the cards, right?”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t be,” Kurt answers with a shrug. “Just remember which pocket they’re in.”

“This one,” Finn says, patting his right side pocket. “Oh, no, wait. They’re not.”

“Put them in the inside pocket,” Puck suggests. “There’s only one, so you know it’s the correct side.”

“If I can find them,” Finn says, continue to go through his pockets “Oh, hey, they’re already in that one! Score!”

“Good.” Kurt smooths down his jacket a little. “So we’re ready?” He turns slightly. “Dad? Carole? Are we ready?”

“In a second!” Carole’s voice calls. “Your dad is. I just need to find…” her voice trails off, sounding frustrated. 

Kurt exchanges a look with both Puck and Finn, and they all shrug. Burt walks into the hall a moment later, looking harried, but not in a flannel shirt, at least. 

“Carole’s having a hard time finding something that fits,” Burt whispers. “Whatever she comes out in, you boys tell her she looks great, okay?”

They all nod. “Of course, Dad,” Kurt answers. “And I’m glad to see you found something not in plaid.”

“I do have _some_ nice clothes in my closet,” Burt protests. “I just don’t need a lot of them.”

“Yes, but you did ask if you could wear the plaid shirt, Dad.”

“It makes me feel comfortable. I feel a little out of my element as it is,” Burt says. 

“Here I am!” Carole announces, hurrying into the hall wearing black pants and an oversize cardigan or something. “Let’s go!”

“You look great, mom!” Finn says. 

“Yes, you look fantastic,” Kurt echoes, without missing a beat. “We should head out, yes.”

“Guess we’d better,” Burt says. “Probably best to be there a little early if we can.”

They all pile into the Nav for the short drive over, and when they get there, Tina and Mike are already standing out front, along with Rachel and her dads. While they’re walking towards them, Carole trips slightly, and Puck says “Be careful!” only to realize all four of them said it, and both Burt and Finn have taken her by an arm.

“Oh, good grief,” Carole sighs with a little smile. “You are all ridiculous.”

“Oh, good, you’re early!” Tina greets them when they get closer. “It doesn’t seem like we’re on anyone’s radar, yet.”

“Hello Burt, Carole, boys,” Leroy says, holding his hand out to shake Burt’s. “We all ready for tonight?”

“Ready as I’m gonna be, I suppose,” Burt answers, taking Leroy’s hand. 

“It’s tomorrow and next week and next month we have to prepare for,” Hiram point out solemnly, also shaking Burt’s hand. “We were talking to Tina here about all the work she’s put into this. Girl like this ought to be going into politics!”

Tina flushes a little. “I had a lot of help. Brittany and Taylor both had some great ideas, and Taylor knew of a ton of resources that I wouldn’t have found on my own. Did you know GLSEN has a new model policy for trans and other non–gender–conforming students?”

“See?” Hiram says with a smile. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

“Are you ready?” Tina addresses Kurt and Finn. “I haven’t heard from Santana or Mandy.”

“I believe so, yes,” Kurt nods. “Are you?”

Tina nods a little. “Yes.” Mike squeezes her hand. “At least we get to leave it behind. Some of them have so much longer here.”

“Slushies might be a drink again someday,” Kurt says lightly. 

“I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to think of them the same way,” Finn says. 

“Maybe not,” Mike agrees as Taylor and Mandy approach from one side, the Karofskys, the Browns, Casey, and Rick approaching from the other. Rick is a little behind the others talking to a girl that looks like a prettier female version of Brown, so Puck figures that must be the famous sister. Mr. Karofsky and the Brown parents stop where Burt and Carole are talking to the Berrys, and the others all congregate around Tina. 

“Hudson, Puckerman, Kurt,” Brown says, nodding his head in greeting. “Don’t all of you just look so fancied up?”

“Kurt picked this out,” Finn says. “I was gonna wear red.”

“I dressed myself,” Puck answers blandly. 

“Hey, I _dressed_ myself. Kurt just told me what to put on.”

“You know what you need? Garanimals.”

“You know what? Maybe I _do_. That would make it easier,” Finn says. 

“The dynamics in your family are really weird,” Brown notes. “Shame not everybody can have a nice, normal sister like I do.”

“You should have heard them earlier,” Mike laughs. “Finn’s mom tripped over, like, a pebble, and they all freaked out.”

Finn gets his guilty look. “She’s, uh, my mom. I gotta look out for her.”

“It was an impressive bit of choral speaking,” Rachel speaks up for the first time. “Oh, look, there’s Santana and Brittany and Lauren. And Coach Beiste and her husband! Are we all here?”

“That’s everyone who confirmed they were coming,” Tina nods. “Twenty-five of us. Usual attendance is between ten and twenty they told me yesterday, so we’re going to be noticeable.”

“I do like to make an entrance,” Kurt shrugs. “Shall we?”

They walk in en masse, sitting down near the front on the left, and Tina goes to speak to someone official–looking before returning with eight plastic numbers. “This is the order in which we’ll speak. We’re the only public participation scheduled for the evening, so that’s good. I’m going to introduce myself to Mr. Michaels.” She points discreetly to one of the school board members. “I may bring him over here to meet some of you. I think he’s the most amenable to our proposal.” She hands over the numbers two through eight to Kurt. “Can you decide who speaks when? I’d like to sprinkle the adults in.”

“Of course,” Kurt nods, and with that, Tina heads over to Mr. Michaels. Kurt looks carefully at the numbers. “Coach Beiste?”

“Yes?”

“Would you close us out, please?”

“Sure.” Coach smiles and takes the number eight, and then Kurt looks at Burt. 

“Middle, Dad?”

“I’ll be in the middle!” Finn blurts out before Burt can respond. Kurt and Puck both turn to stare at him disbelievingly, and Puck can hear Santana laughing quietly to herself. Finn seems to realize what he’s just said, because his face turns scarlet. 

“Dad, four. Finn, three,” Kurt continues. “Taylor, would you be second?”

“Sure,” he nods, then looks at them. “I may say a few things that surprise you guys.” Brittany smiles and gives Taylor a quick hug. 

“Santana, five, I’ll go six, and Mandy, seven?” There’s a series of nods and Kurt settles back in his seat as Tina approaches with Mr. Michaels. 

“Hey, guys,” Tina says with a smile. “This is Conrad Michaels, one of the board members. Mr. Michaels, this is part of McKinley High’s PFLAG group.” She gestures first to Kurt. “Kurt’s essentially our leader. That’s his dad back there, and you know Mr. Karofsky and his son?” Mr. Karofsky and Karofsky both half–wave at Mr. Michaels. “Did you have any questions for us?”

“Are… all of you gay?” he asks, his eyes widening at the large number of students. 

Mike answers for them with a laugh. “No, some of us are straight allies. But they’re our friends.”

“Oh, right, right, of course. And the content..?”

“I assure you, Mr. Michaels,” Tina says soothingly. “It will be appropriate. This isn’t about sex, just sexual orientation and gender identity.”

He nods, looking a little confused. “All right. Certainly. Well, you’ve definitely piqued my interest!” he adds, looking a little brighter. “I hope you won’t be too bored by the business portion. Sometimes I am!”

There’s some quiet laughter, and then he moves back slightly to speak to the adults. Puck turns his head and sees Mr. Schuester and Ms. Pillsbury walking into the room, taking seats in the row behind Coach Beiste and Mr. Desmond. 

The first part of the meeting is as boring as Mr. Michaels said it would be. There are about ten other people in the meeting, most of whom look like they have to be there for some media outlet or another. There’s a brief break halfway through the agenda and one of them approaches the group. 

“Hi, I’m Connie Dean, with WLIO Channel 35,” the woman says, addressing Mr. Karofsky. “This is an unusually large group for a school board meeting, I have to say. Is there something you might like to give me a heads up about?”

Mr. Karofsky just grins and points at Tina. “You want to speak to that young lady right there, she’s the organizer for all of us.”

Connie Dean looks surprised, but turns to Tina. “Can you explain why such a large group of students is present here tonight?”

“Hi, I’m Tina Cohen-Chang,” Tina offeres her hand. “This is a portion of McKinley High School’s PFLAG group. We’re here to petition the school board to change the wording of the bullying policy so that all students are protected, no matter the motivation of the bully.”

“PFLAG? That’s the gay group, correct?”

“We’re a local chapter of the national organization, which is Parents, Family, and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. Of course, it’s an inclusive group, which means we have LGBTQI students as well as allies in our group.” Tina speaks confidently, like she’s memorized this, which she probably has, Puck concedes mentally. “The current district policy is written in such a way that makes it difficult for faculty and staff to intervene in cases of sexuality or gender–motivated bullying.”

“Like what’s been happening in Minnesota,” Connie Dean says. “I wasn’t aware Lima City Schools had a similar policy.”

“State law in Ohio provides for each district to incorporate their own language into their policies. Unfortunately, without explicit protection, what’s colloquially known as ‘no homo promo’ takes effect, with the current policies here.”

“‘No homo promo’. That’s catchy. So how are you planning on approaching this tonight?”

“There are eight of us that will be speaking, from different perspectives,” Tina answers. “Affected students, allies, parents, faculty. Our goal is to get language introduced that offers protection for LGBTQI students going forward. Many of us here are graduating in under three months; this is our legacy.”

“Will all of you be speaking tonight?” Connie pulls out a pad and pen. “I’d like to write down your names and the order you’ll be speaking, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course!” Tina proceeds to go through the list of speakers, pointing each of them out in turn. “If you have any questions afterwards, feel free to ask any of us.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you for giving me a few moments of your time.” As Connie walks away, she pulls out her phone and begins texting rapidly.

“Someone smells a story,” Puck says under his breath.

Kurt snorts his agreement, and on the other side, Finn laughs nervously. “Publicity could be a good thing,” Kurt points out. “If it goes further than just Lima.”

“Like Columbus?” Finn asks, fiddling with his notecards. 

“Columbus, Toledo, Dayton,” Kurt lists. “I suppose eventually we could even get a thirty second spot on the national news, but that’s unlikely for tonight.”

“Little ol’ Lima. Probably not the kind of publicity the Chamber of Commerce wants,” Puck notes. “That could be to our advantage.”

“Yeah? You think so?” Finn looks dubious, reshuffling his cards. 

“Give the queers what they want so they’ll shut up? Yeah.”

Finn frowns and shifts uncomfortably in his seat, but doesn’t say anything. The board president calls the meeting back to order then, and after about ten minutes, he calls for public participant number one. Tina stands and hands the plastic number to the same official–looking person who gave her the numbers to start with, and steps up to a microphone. 

“Mr. President, Madam Vice President, members of the board, my name is Tina Cohen-Chang. I am a senior at McKinley High School, and have completed all thirteen years of my education in Lima City Schools.

“I’m here today to bring to your attention a problem in our schools, as a representative of one of our student groups. I am a member of McKinley’s PFLAG chapter, and to be honest, Lima has a problem with bullying.” She pauses and takes a deep breath. “Other speakers will describe the situation, but I want to speak about why this should matter, and what specifically we’re talking about. Current district policies, colloquially known as ‘no homo promo’, prevent faculty and staff from responding appropriately to incidents of bullying that are related to sexual orientation or gender identity. LGBTQI students in Lima City Schools are, honestly, unprotected.”

Tina looks down briefly at a notecard in her hand. “Students who are LGBTQI are five times more likely to miss school because of feeling unsafe. More than ninety-one percent of LGBTQI students nationally report hearing homophobic slurs or expressions often. One in seven students, overall, is either a bully or a victim of bullying. That’s nationally, of all students. School shooting and school violence are linked to bullying. We all have heard the national stories about ‘bullycides’ and attempted suicides. LGBTQI students are more likely to be bullied, and more likely to have their appearance, sexual orientation, or gender identity be the focus of such bullying. I will stop with two minutes remaining if you have questions.”

The five school board members look stunned. After a moment, one of them who isn’t the president or Mr. Michaels speaks up. “Kids pick on each other,” he says with a shrug. “We can’t make special rules just because some kids have made… _different_ lifestyle choices.”

“You’re right,” Tina says with a smile. “We’re not asking for special rules. There is already a comprehensive anti-bullying policy in place in Lima City Schools to deal with incidents of kids ‘picking on each other’, as you say. What we are asking is that the rules be fairly applied. Right now, they are not.”

The man frowns at her answer and scribbles something on the notepad in front of him; if Puck had to guess, he didn’t realize there was an anti-bullying policy in place at all. Tina waits at the microphone for a few more moments before sitting down with a quiet “thank you for your time and attention.”

Taylor stands up, then, handing his number two to the same person. “Hi. My name is Taylor Lange, and I am a freshman at McKinley High School. My family moved to Lima almost three years ago; I attended seventh and eighth grade at Lima West Middle School.” Taylor smiles at all of them and then looks briefly over his shoulder at the rest of them. 

“I’m one of the lucky ones. I fly under the radar; my differences aren’t obvious to most people. A lot of the people sitting behind me are going to be surprised by what I’m going to say. And at the end of the day, I go home to good parents. Parents who weren’t, and still aren’t, thrilled, but they are supportive.” Taylor exhales. “My birth name is, in fact, Taylor Lange, and most teachers think that the paperwork from the office is incorrect. They change the F to an M without even thinking about it. My parents allowed me to take estrogen blockers before there was significant pubertal development. I don’t personally experience bullying—yet—because we moved here, where no one knew I had been born female. I’m sure that will change after tonight.”

Puck blinks and looks sideways at Kurt, who looks equally surprised. Finn blinks and tilts his head like he’s considering what he just heard. The only two people who don’t look at least somewhat surprised, in fact, are Tina and Brittany. 

“As I said, I’ve been very lucky. I could have been named Tiffany instead of Taylor. I could have had parents who told me I had to wait until I was eighteen to change anything about my body. And I could be more obviously trans, a target of the locker checks and slushies and other bullying that I see daily at McKinley High School. But I shouldn’t need to be lucky to avoid those things.”

With that, Taylor steps away from the microphone and reclaims his seat. There’s a low clapping from behind Puck that swells until they’re all applauding Taylor, who now looks embarrassed by the attention. The school board members look even more stunned, Mr. Michaels scribbling furiously on his own notepad. The ‘lifestyle choices’ guy just looks angry, now. 

“Number three?” official–looking guy says. When Finn doesn’t move, Puck elbows him in the side, and Finn drops his handful of notecards. He gives Puck a brief, panicky look, then shrugs half-heartedly and heads up to the microphone, where he takes a moment to adjust it as high as it will go. He still has to lean over.

“Hi. I’m, uh. I’m Finn Hudson,” he begins, clearing his throat a little. “I’m a senior at McKinley. I play football, the quarterback, actually. I had some notes, but I dropped them, so I guess I’m just going to do my best to go on without them.”

There’s a low rumble of polite laughter, and Finn flashes the crowd a crooked grin before continuing. “I guess I could talk about a lot of different stuff. I’ve kind of come at all of this from some different angles, you know? My freshman and sophomore year, I did a lot of stupid stuff, bullying stuff, and nothing was ever really done about it. Then I joined glee club, and got to feel what it was like to be on the other end of the bullying. _Then_ my mom met this really awesome guy and got remarried, and I got to feel what it was like to have to worry about somebody _else_ getting bullied, and I don’t know, that might be almost as bad.” Finn smiles in Kurt’s direction.

“But I’m not gonna talk about all of that stuff, really. I’m gonna talk about one day back at the beginning of this school year. We’d been having problems with some of the other guys on the team, saying a lot of stuff, some pretty awful stuff about gay people in general and my brother specifically, and me and some of the other guys, we’d made it pretty clear that wasn’t gonna fly on the team. We thought that was the end of it, only it wasn’t the end of it by a long shot,” Finn continues.

“So this one day, this group of guys—big guys, right? linemen—had started up about it again, saying all this stuff. They’d been harassing people in the halls and doing a pretty good job of getting away with it, I guess. Another guy on the team, a guy I’ve known since we were little kids, decides to say something about it, tell them that it wasn’t ok to talk like that. These two big guys, they beat the he— excuse me. They beat him up pretty badly; all that happened to them was a few days of suspension and getting kicked off the team, which was because of Coach and had nothing to do with the school.” Finn frowns. 

“Anyway, just think about that for a minute. My friend got beat up for telling somebody to stop using homophobic language. Just for saying it wasn’t ok to use those words. What do you think happens to the kids who _are_ gay or trans or whatever? He got beat up for standing up for them. Imagine how bad the kids being bullied have it. Think about how bad it must be for _them_.”

Finn nods once, decisively, then heads back to his seat without another word. There’s another spate of furious scribbling amongst the school board members, and Puck and Kurt both turn to smile slightly at Finn as Burt stands up and heads towards the microphone. 

“Hello, everyone. I’m Burt Hummel. I’m a small business owner, I’ve lived in Lima my whole life, and more importantly, I’m a father to two McKinley high school students. I’d like to talk to you about what happens when your gay child is bullied at a high school in this city. See, the first thing that happens, is that he comes home, every single day, terrified. He won’t talk to you about it, but you’ll be able to tell, because you know your kid. You can tell by the way he walks that somebody’s been hurting him and you can tell by the look on his face that people have been saying stuff.”

Burt levels a look at the other adults in the audience. “Then one day, it gets worse. It’s obviously escalated. You find out it’s not just—and understand, I use ‘just’ lightly here—name-calling and shoves any more. Somebody’s threatened him, threatened his life, and you take that pretty damn seriously. You go to the principal and she talks to your son and his bully, and because maybe it’s your lucky day that the regular guy’s out and this dame is in, she expels the bully. That’s where this story’s supposed to end, right?”

“Only, it doesn’t end there, because the school board decides there’s not enough proof and, hey, it’s just some oversensitive gay kid, right? They send the bully right back to your kid’s school. What are you gonna do then? Are you gonna tell your kid, too bad, son, you’ve gotta go back there? Of course not! You take everything you’ve saved to take you and your new wife on a honeymoon and you enroll your son in a private school with a strictly enforced anti-bullying policy, is what you do. Sure, it costs a lot, but what kind of price do you put on your son not being threatened? What I want to know is, why should I have to put a price on it? Why is this something I have to send my son to a private school to avoid? Who’s looking out for these kids who parents _can’t_ afford to sent them away to a safer school?”

Burt frowns. “I’m thinking maybe nobody’s looking out for them, which, if you think about, is pretty shameful. Thank you for your time.” Burt returns to his seat, where he takes Carole’s hand. 

There’s utter silence in the wake of Burt’s speech, until the officious dude squawks out “Five!” and Santana saunters to the front.

“Hi. My name’s Santana Lopez. I’m one of the head Cheerios this year. I’m also a lesbian.” She stops and grins without any humor. “Before January 23, I was out to my friends in glee club, and to PFLAG. That morning, I was outed without my permission on a gossip blog. That’s cyberbullying, by the way. I didn’t know about the blog post until after I arrived at school. My first clue was the wave of slushies that I was hit with. By the time my friends found me during fourth period, they’d all been hit as well. Twelve of us left school during lunch to change clothes, and we weren’t the only ones. That’s physical bullying and destruction of property – a lot of clothes were ruined. Some textbooks, too, which is destruction of district property. The thing is, a few of the teachers did something. We don’t know what they did, but after a few days, we could stop bringing two and three changes of clothes to school. But no one was punished.” Santana shrugs. “I submitted a report of physical bullying for the first slushies. I submitted a report of cyberbullying for the blog post. They were returned to me with a note that nothing could be done, because the school could do nothing that implied they ‘promoted’ homosexuality.”

Santana squares her jaw. “So instead they promote hate, and the next time something like this happens, it’ll be worse. I won’t be here, because it will be next year, or the year after, but it will be worse, because they’ll know – nothing happened last time.”

With that, Santana turns and goes back to her seat, taking Brittany’s hand. “Oh, and this is my girlfriend. She’s awesome,” Santana calls.

The officious guy just calls out “Six!” and Puck squeezes Kurt’s hand once as Kurt stands up and walks towards the microphone. 

“Hello. My name is Kurt Hummel. My father tells me that when I was three, all I wanted for my birthday was a pair of sensible heels. I can't remember a time when I didn't know I was somehow different, though I didn't have the vocabulary until I was slightly older.” Kurt pauses and smiles slightly before sobering. “I also can't remember a time that that difference, the simple fact of my sexual orientation, did not result in verbal and physical harassment at school.”

“Many times, we're accused of wanting special rights or special treatment. I want to assure you that is not the case. We don't want special rights; we just want the same rights as everyone else. We want to go to school without hearing derogatory slurs. We want to walk to class without flinching at certain sights. More than anything, we want to know that when we are bullied, our problems will be treated with the same gravity as everyone else's, that our tormenters will be punished and not excused under the banner of free speech or religious tolerance.”

Kurt fixes each of the school board members with his gaze before continuing. “I don't care what you think about me inside your head. I don't even care what you say about me where I cannot hear. I do care how you, and your children, treat me and my friends to my face. I do care about myself and others like me being _safe_ in the buildings where we are educated.”

“What am I talking about? I’ll tell you.” He lets out a deep breath and looks behind him for a brief moment, then turns back to the board. 

“I have been shoved into lockers. I have been thrown in dumpsters. I have had slushies thrown in my face. I have been pushed into the mud. I have had spitballs thrown into my hair. I have had my gym clothes stolen from my locker so that I would receive a zero grade for the day. I have had my street clothes stolen during gym so that I had to walk around in the winter in shorts and a T-shirt. I have been called ‘fairy’, ‘ladyface’, ‘queerio’, and ‘faggot’. I have had my watch stolen. I have had my folders ripped to shreds. I have returned from recess to find ink spilled all over my book reports. I have had my pencils broken. I once spent two periods shoved into a locker.”

Hearing it all listed is like a punch in the gut, and yet Puck knows Kurt was careful to list no cyberbullying and nothing that happened off school grounds, though he included things from all thirteen years that Kurt had spent in the Lima City School System. He also knows there was more, things from elementary and middle school that didn’t bother Kurt now, but had deeply at the time. 

“The only people who have been punished for any of these incidents are people who punished themselves. The people who realized on their own what they did was wrong, who apologized, who made things right. The school system itself has punished someone for none of them. Not a single one.”

Kurt pauses to let that sink in. “I have been told to ‘tone it down’. I have been told to let it roll off of me. I have been told to be less sensitive. I have been told that no one else saw anything. I have been told that I was asking for it by being myself. I've been told that other students have a right to express their opinions. I've been told that it must have been an accident. There are an awful lot of accidents that happen around me.”

“What do I want? It’s simple, actually. I want my reports to be taken as seriously as everyone else's. I want the two to ten percent of us who are different to be just as protected as the rest of you, instead of less.”

Kurt turns from the microphone without another word, collapsing back into his seat. One member of the school board, the vice-president, Puck thinks, is literally gaping at Kurt. Puck reaches back over to take Kurt’s hand, squeezing it, and he feels Finn’s arm going across his shoulders, as Finn leans against Puck so he can put his hand on the back of Kurt’s neck, fingers splayed.

“Seven!” Puck thinks that the officious official must be selected for his ability to not give a fuck about anything else going on in the room. The sophomore girl whose name is Mandy or Mindy or maybe Molly stands up and heads to the microphone. 

“Hi, my name is Mandy. I’d prefer not to share my last name, because… well, lots of reasons. I have an older brother, I’m not going to say how much older, either, but he went to McKinley several years ago, and I go there now. He’s gay, by the way, but that’s not something most people know about him. It’s not something they ever pick up when they first meet him and so they just have no idea. I don’t know if you know this, but there’s a _lot_ of really ugly jokes and comments that get said at McKinley. It’s amazing the kind of things people will say to you, the little jokes they think are so funny, when they have no idea you’ve got a gay brother.” She shakes her head a little bit and laughs. 

“Maybe they’d say it even if they did know. Maybe they’d say worse, but I don’t know for sure, because it’s not something I go around advertising. I love my brother and I’m proud of him, but it’s not something you talk about openly at McKinley. The only people who know about him are my friends at PFLAG, because that’s the only place at school that you know you aren’t going to get called names or told offensive jokes. I think that it shouldn’t have to be like that. We should have more than one class period every other week where everybody just acts decently to and about other people. I heard that man before talking about special protection, but it seems to me that just being treated like everyone else is exactly what we’re asking for. I think the way it works right now is a lot more ‘special’ because it keeps us all separated from each other. Anyway, thank you for letting me talk, and I hope you’ll think about changing the policy so that everybody can be treated equally.”

She sits down looking a little surprised with herself, like she can’t quite believe she said all of that, and official guy calls out “Eight!” before she’s all the way into her chair. Coach Beiste gets up and walks to the front of the room. 

“Hi. My name is Shannon Beiste, and I’m the football coach at McKinley. One of my friends on the faculty told me I should be careful about speaking out, that it could cost me my job. I told that friend that if my job depended on my being silent about injustice, it wasn’t a job I wanted any longer.” She nods sharply. “Now, if a report about bullying is submitted to me, or I witness an act of bullying, I try to take it seriously. Because of where my office is and the classes I teach, I don’t see a lot of the worst things. We’re off in one wing of the school, and I can’t go into the boys’ P.E. locker rooms. I have a feeling I’d be appalled at the language and other issues there.”

Beiste shakes her head. “But it is true, the policy as it’s written now makes it hard for me to do my job and enforce the policy. Cyberbullying is the easiest, usually, but there’s the pesky idea that citing someone for bullying is going to be promoting homosexuality. Now, I’ve never seen an ad campaign or a recruiting flyer, so I’m not sure what that means.” She snorts. “But I can tell you, I have been able to act quickly and decisively on reports that deal with other kinds of bullying. I’m hamstrung if Kurt or Taylor or someone else comes to me for help. All I can offer is my office as a safe space. I can’t promise them that their complaint will be taken with the same level of seriousness. And, ladies and gentlemen, that’s just not right.” She nods at the school board again. “Thank you for your time and attention.”

There’s a collective sigh as Beiste sits down and no more numbers are called. Puck isn’t sure what’s supposed to happen next. He has his answer when Mr. Michaels raises his hand. “Motion to put discussion of adopting new language in our anti-bullying policy on the agenda for next month’s meeting.”

“Seconded,” the vice president woman says slowly. “I’d like sample language introduced at that time, I think.”

“Ayes?” the president asks, and four voices echo him. “Nays?”

The ‘special rights’ guy says “Nay,” sharply, but one vote’s not enough, and the president uses his gavel.

“Ayes have it. Discussion will be held at the next meeting with sample language introduced.” There are another few minutes of items on the agenda before the president declares the meeting over. 

Tina leans up between Puck and Finn. “Let’s let the reporter ask us more questions, then everyone meet up at Pat’s. Spread the word.” Puck nods and turns to Kurt, and on his other side, Finn starts to spread the news. 

Tina stands up then and walks over to Connie Dean, speaking with her briefly before they both walk over to where everyone is slowly standing and stretching. 

“That was quite a presentation tonight,” Connie says. “I’m impressed. I certainly wasn’t expecting anything like that at a Lima school board meeting and I’m fairly sure the school board members weren’t either.”

Tina smiles at her. “We wanted to present the full spectrum of those who are affected,” she says. “We had more people who wanted to speak than could be accommodated!”

“Your personal stories are all very moving.” Connie looks almost overly–excited. “How would you describe the response you received in there?”

“Well, we’re on the agenda for next month, which is a huge step,” Tina answers. “And we’ll be submitting our own proposed language to each of the board members. Of course, now that we’ve taken the first steps, there’s bound to be some resistance.”

“I imagine that the kind of situations you all described can have a pretty serious impact on the learning environment,” Connie says. “Have you found that to be the case?”

Kurt does his head tilt and considers the question. “Of course, it’s difficult to focus on one’s work when you’re not sure if you’re going to be hit with something, or your clothes are still wet from the slushie that hit you two periods earlier.” He pauses and looks around, seeing if anyone else wants to respond. 

“It’s kinda hard to really focus in class when you’re worried that something bad’s gonna happen to your family or friends,” Finn says. “Or, you know, dealing with the bad stuff that _has_ happened. That’s not so great for school work, either.”

“If you’d like to ask us further questions, here’s our contact information,” Tina says, handing the reporter a piece of paper. “And our PFLAG group meets the first and third Tuesdays of each month during lunchtime. We couldn’t consent to filming it, of course, but you would be welcome to observe, abiding by our usual rules of confidentiality.”

“I might do that. I’ll be in touch and see about arranging to come out to the next meeting for a while, if you think the group would be alright with that.”

“I think that would probably be fine,” Kurt answers her, nodding slightly. “We might have you wait outside until after our initial introductions, though.”

“Yes, I can understand that,” Connie says. “I’ll talk to my editor and then I’ll make arrangements with one of you.” She shakes hands all around and then hurries off in the direction of one of the school board members. 

Tina squeals quietly after she leaves. “She’s desperate. Do you ever watch the news? They send her to cover stuff like potholes off Allen Road. This is gold for her.”

“I swear, I didn’t see the jackhammer,” Puck says quickly. 

“Jackhammer?” Tina looks puzzled, then shakes her head. “Anyway! We’ll get more resistance, maybe, but we might bring out more support as well.”

“We can mention it down in Dayton, maybe,” Kurt muses. “The point is to fill the room. I doubt everyone they would bring would live in Lima city limits.” 

“Yes, exactly! We’ll see you at Pat’s?”

There’s a general mess of people exchanging ‘see you in a minute’ and a few people leaving for the evening, not headed to Pat’s. Once they head towards the Nav, Kurt nudges Puck’s shoulder and then inclines his head towards Finn, who is scrunching up his eyebrows and looking worried. Once they’re all loaded in the Nav, Puck twists in his seat and eyeballs Finn. “S’up, dude?”

Finn exhales loudly. “I don’t know how I’m gonna be able to make a schedule to Casey–sit _everybody_. Well, you know, not Casey–sit, we’re already Casey–sitting. Like, Taylor–sit and what’s–her–name–sit.”

“What are you talking about, sweetie?” Carole pipes up from the back, where she’s leaning out into the cold air through the window. 

“Uh, yeah, so I guess we haven’t talked about the Casey–sitting,” Finn says. “Karofsky was pretty worried about Casey going back to school after the… the you know. Just, partly the bullying thing, partly him getting lost in the shuffle or whatever, being scared or upset? I mean, it was kind of as much for Karofsky as for Casey, but now I’m thinking, you know, I think it’s _helped_ , at least a little, and can we do that for other kids? Until stuff gets better?”

“Rather than baby-sitting, wouldn’t it just make sense to have people travel in groups?” Kurt points out. “Have everyone tell where their first period class versus their second period class is, go from there.”

“’Cause that’s totally kept stuff from happening to _us_ , right?” Finn says. 

“No one’s going to be permanently injured, Finn. The more people, the more likelihood someone can snap a picture or take some video or get other hard evidence.”

“Someone _could_ get hurt, Kurt. They could get hurt pretty bad. What, are you gonna have people like Casey and Taylor just looking out for each other? They’re _tiny_ , dude!”

Kurt stops at the red light and twists in his seat. “Casey’s taller than I was freshman year, Finn,” he hisses. “Believe me. No one’s going to end up with any scars. There’s a limit that they don’t push past. That’s why— that’s why Karofsky scared the fucking daylights out of me. He didn’t just push past it, he _barreled_ past it.”

“And you think he’s the only guy who’s ever gonna pass that limit? Jesus, Kurt! You’re _lucky_ something worse didn’t happen to you. We totally _failed_ you!”

“I’m not anyone’s _duty_ , Finn! It doesn’t work that way. It’s not, oh, good, all the allies protect the gays!”

“ _Fuck_ the allies, Kurt. You were our friend and we didn’t have your back, and, just, why won’t you just let me _help_!” Finn kicks ineffectually at the back of the seat in front of him. 

“You can’t assume people want your help!” Kurt parks the Nav and turns around. “Yes, fine, sometimes you have to step in, regardless. I don’t think Casey was capable of deciding if he should ask for help or not. But you know what? I think Taylor is. I think Mandy is. I think Santana is. I think I am.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Finn says, pushing open the door. “Then I hope you _decide_ to let me know if I can actually _help_ you if this fallout you guys keep talking about happens! Because, just… just _fine_!” Finn climbs out of the Nav, kicking the trashcan in front of Pat’s, then hurriedly righting it again before storming into Pat’s.

“Well.” Carole clears her throat. “Um. Shall we go inside?”

“What set him off?” Burt asks. “I appreciate the sentiment of wanting to step up, and all that, but he’s seems a little overly–upset, don’t you think?”

Puck answers with a shrug. “Remember at the hospital? He’s only had a few weeks. He doesn’t get how it can be. So.”

“So he’s scared,” Carole finishes softly. “Yes.”

They climb out of the Nav quietly and walk into Pat’s, where Finn is sulking at a table with Karofsky and Casey. Kurt sighs and exchanges a look with Puck. Puck shrugs silently, and they sit down across from Tina and Mike. 

“He okay?” Tina whispers.

“Eh. Brothers fight,” Puck answers for Kurt. 

“Yeah, well, we’ve had our fill of domestic squabbles lately,” Brown says, making some kind of sidelong glance in the direction of Finn, Karofsky, and Casey’s table. “Safer over here in Asian paradise.”

“I’m honestly not sure if I should be flattered or offended,” Mike says, looking confused. 

“Flattered. You’ll know when you’re meant to be offended,” Brown says. “I’m not that subtle.”

“That’s true.” The girl that must be his sister says, sighing. “He’s very unsubtle. Hi. I’m Alicia, and I have the unfortunate honor of being Miles’ sister.”

“Alicia, now, you watch it. I can send you right on over to sit with Ma,” Brown says. “Don’t think I won’t. I’ll also send Foots here right on home, you got that Foots? You just wipe that smirk right on off your face.”

“Hi Alicia,” Puck says to her, ignoring Brown. “Puck, Kurt, Mike, Tina,” he gestures to each of them in turn. “Nice of you to show up tonight.”

“No trouble. Plus I think I get extra credit in history.”

“I think everybody gets extra credit in history,” Rick says. “They really like us to go to these things, I guess.”

“Civic participation,” Kurt comments. “Just wait until you can vote. They love it when you vote.”

“I’m still sad about that, you don’t understand,” Tina sighs. “Four days! Four days short.”

“Yeah, I’m still a year short,” Brown sighs. “Shame, too. Missed out on my shot to vote for the president’s re-election.”

“Some of us get to vote in states where our vote will actually count, come November,” Puck smirks a little. 

“Ohh, I know!” Tina grins. “Isn’t it great?”

“Are you going off to college some place better than Ohio?” Rick asks. 

“That’s not difficult. About forty-five states better,” Kurt says dryly.

“New York,” Puck answers. “Tina’s headed to Massachusetts.”

“Hopefully I’ll be in Massachusetts, too,” Mike adds, “but possibly New York.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun,” Rick says. “Glad I still got a while before I have to worry about that stuff, though.”

“I want to go home,” Kurt half whines, stabbing at his ice cream. “Why is it still March?”

“Because the calendar gods dislike us.”

“Oh, right.”

Rick gives Puck and Kurt a strange look, then shakes his head like he’s clearing out some irrelevant thought. Puck raises his eyebrow at Rick questioningly, a hint of a challenge in his smirk. 

Rick shrugs. “Nothin’. Spending too much time around those guys, I think,” he says, indicating Brown and then gesturing over at Karofsky and Casey.

“Brittany’s going to tell you you’re getting bad at the game again,” Mike laughs. “I think she’s trying to make up scorecards now.”

“We’ll just tell her she won, I think.”

 

Finn keeps sulking throughout the drive home, and when Kurt kills the engine, Finn slouches into the house. Kurt sighs a little and climbs out. 

“I’m going to head on up to bed,” Carole says with a slight yawn. “Are you coming, Burt?”

“Sounds like a great plan,” Burt says. “Kurt, you taking Puck home or is he staying?”

“Staying,” Kurt says firmly, leaning against Puck. 

“Door open,” Burt says, though it sounds more like force of habit than anything else. He then follows Carole into the house. 

“We’ll be in in a minute,” Kurt says softly. He turns to Puck and pulls him into a tight embrace. “I love you.”

Puck presses his lips against Kurt’s cheek and smiles. “I know, blue eyes. I love you, too.”


End file.
